


Paradise in Purgatory (Days of Our Xavier)

by EmWrites4



Category: American Horror Story: 1984, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: AHS Apocalypse AU, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brief mentions of M/M sex, Brief mentions of Xantana, Briefs mentions of Xertie, Crack Fic, Dark Xavier - Freeform, Drama & Romance, Edging, F/M, Fictional Richard Ramirez, Fingering, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Smut, Jingles Drama (my son!), Light Xavier - Freeform, Mentions of Masturbation, Oral Sex, Past Drug Addiction, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Soap Opera AHS 1984, Super Angst, Unplanned Pregnancy, anal pleasuring, mentions of trouble with childbirth, rough con sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:21:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21586039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmWrites4/pseuds/EmWrites4
Summary: Continuing with the finale of the show “American Horror Story: 1984”, our story begins in the present day. Xavier Plympton has been trapped at Camp Redwood for decades. Along comes Lara, a determined believer in redemption on a mission to help Xavier and the others escape the perpetual twilight of purgatory, driven by a hidden agenda of her own. These are the Days of our Xavier.
Relationships: Xavier Plympton / OFC
Comments: 47
Kudos: 36





	1. Past Lives

Darkness. Chill wind blew through long limbs of trees. There was firelight up ahead and she steeled herself and walked towards it, twigs snatching at her face and daringly attempting to snare her jacket. She could feel her own heartbeat thick in the pulse point of her throat and felt the rivulets of nervous sweat trickling coldly down her spine.

Although she had always been praised for being so smart her entire life, Lara knew this was probably the dumbest thing she had ever attempted. Here she was, at the infamous Camp Redwood, site of massacres and rumored home of those who could not rest, at night. _At night!_

She was thinking, _Are you crazy? Get back in your car and leave!_

Lara hesitated before she passed under the old, wooden sign with the camp’s name barely legible in the darkness. Still, she didn’t leave, just drew her thick jacket tighter in the cold night air, one hand carrying a lit lantern and a closed switchblade clutched in the other. Neither of those items would do her any good if she encountered the worst but just having them had made her feel braver when she left home. They now felt ridiculously inadequate for what might lay waiting in the dark.

 _You’re such a moron. A switchblade?_ she now thought to herself dismally but nonetheless, she kept striding towards the firelight, towards the man she saw sitting there contemplating the fire.

Her foot snapped a twig and he turned to look at her. She wasn’t sure what reaction to expect, surprise, fear, anger, but he just appraised her coolly, calmly, with his blonde hair and an earring glinting gold in caught firelight. Lara recognized him from the photos she had assembled at home. This one was Xavier Plympton.

“Are you lost?” he asked her, his voice curious, and she shook her head.

“No, I’m not lost. I’ve heard about this place. About you and your friends. You’re Xavier Plympton,” she said, mustering every last ounce of courage she possessed.

Lara pretended she wasn’t shaking like the windblown leaves above her. This was surreal, to be talking to a ghost as if she were stopping on a street corner asking for directions to the nearest Starbucks. His eyes had widened when she said his name and he stood up, dumbfounded.

“Well, look who gets the gold star. Who the hell are _you_?”

Beyond him, emerging from the darkness, she suddenly perceived a running black shadow, a flash of a white, triumphant smile, the gleam of silver in a blurred hand. Moving too fast, the dark shadow was upon her before she knew it. His smiling face was handsome, strange, terrifying. She had to will her feet to move, to run, but there was hardly any time, his appearance was so stunning, and she was inexplicably rooted to the spot.

The man dressed entirely in black caught her arm and twisted it behind her in a sharply painful grip. He was raising the knife to press it against her cheek, looking into her face with slow-dawning surprise when she suddenly heard a “ _thwuck_!” sound, and then, there was no hand grasping her arm anymore.

The dark man was down, coughing and spluttering dirt. In the dim sheen of fire and starlight she saw the rise and fall of flashing metal, then a pool spreading beneath his head and the man in the acid-wash jeans standing behind, a machete wet with a black, dripping stain.

Xavier was smiling with a stone-cold blue gaze, looking down at the destroyed mess on the ground. 

“Chet and Pee Boy must be getting it on again. I don’t know why they bother letting either of them take watch,” Xavier sighed drily with a shake of his head.

Lara regarded her savior with wide eyes, trembling with adrenaline and wonder and the sweetest, craziest sense of relief she’d ever felt in her life. She had known there was a chance the ghosts would be violent, but she hadn’t imagined what sort of damage they could inflict. Xavier had cut the other man down while hardly batting an eye and she knew she ought to be afraid of him, but she wasn’t. He had saved her life. Throwing all forms of good judgement and caution to the wind, she ran to him and threw her arms around him.

He seemed taken aback by this response but after a moment, he dropped the machete and held her, rubbing her back awkwardly, soothingly.

“It’s okay,” Xavier murmured uncertainly.

It had been a while since he had felt the flesh of a real human being, and definitely not one this soft with hair that smelled like heaven. The specific scent at first escaped description and then it came to him; it smelled like coconuts. He hadn’t inhaled that scent in what felt like ages. Her body pulsed with warmth and he marveled at that.

“Thank you,” Lara said fervently, pulling back to look up into his face. Her voice was thick with tears. In this darkness, his features were still somewhat unclear, but she could see the outlines of his sharp-cut cheekbones and his eyes were a dark cobalt blue. “I’m Lara. I probably should have shown up with something more substantial than a stupid knife and my good intentions.” Her laughter was shaken, like the rest of her.

“Everybody makes mistakes,” Xavier said with a gentle smile.

His eyes were bright on hers and she stared at him until she realized he was still holding her and might still be violent. She stepped out of the safe circle of his arms and he let her, feeling the habitual cold creep in where she had been.

“Are you here alone?” she asked.

“Aside from him? No, there are others here. How did you know about me?”

“There have been rumors about Redwood for years. I… wanted to see for myself if any of them were true. I’ve read your names, you and Montana, Chet, Ray. I was curious. I wondered if I could help.”

Xavier blinked, his face torn between a smile and a grimace.

“Why would you want to do that? Maybe none of us should be getting out of here.” Xavier’s eyes had turned thoughtful. “I need to take care of him before he gets up again. How did you get here?”

 _Gets up again_? What he was saying made no sense but Lara was suddenly very reluctant to leave. She seemed forlorn as she pointed to the car.

“My ride.”

“I’ve gotta go and so should you,” Xavier said.

Xavier was still just standing there, regarding her with those strange, almond-shaped blue eyes. His mouth was full, the bottom thicker and indented slightly in the middle in the most alluring way. Lara didn’t think about it; instinctively, as if this was perfectly natural, she nestled back into his arms and reached up to press a kiss of gratitude on those lips. His arms closed around her immediately and the kiss opened, deepened, until a moan of sweet, unfamiliar pleasure nearly escaped her. That made her recover her senses, made her remember where she was and who ( _or what_?) she was kissing, and she pulled her lips away.

Xavier could feel the heartbeat in her chest, the flow of living blood under flesh. He pressed his hand right above her warm breast, his eyes closing tightly for just a moment at the sensation of her body surging with the power of being alive and strong and free. It was intoxicating.

“You really should go,” he said, his voice low. “Drive safely.”

Lara paused and then smiled up at him as she moved reluctantly away. “What about him?” she asked, pointing at the dead man.

“I’ll take care of it,” Xavier answered.

 _It_ , the man wasn’t a he anymore, just an it. Lara wondered how Xavier could be so sweet with her but so casual about killing another human being. She wondered why she didn’t care more either. Coldly, she decided the man, whoever he was, had brought his fate on himself.

As she managed, somehow, to pull herself away from Xavier, she walked towards the car, sparing a glance behind her. Xavier had pulled the body most of the way into the campsite close to the firepit and hacked off the head in one powerful movement. Then he stood there, and outlined by firelight, as if this was all perfectly normal, he waved at her until she was back in the car and drove away.

Xavier’s shoulders slumped the minute the car was out of sight. It had felt so long since he had even seen a living person, and definitely not one that had sparked so much curiosity and protectiveness in him as she had. He wasn’t a hero and never had been, but she had made him feel like one. Her kiss had warmed the cold soul he had become but it had been too fast, too fleeting, and now the deep, pervasive inner chill was returning. He would never be free of it.

He shook off the glow of being in her presence and focused on the work at hand. Methodically, mechanically, he proceeded to hack the body into pieces and throw each offending bit into the fire. Ultimately, it was pointless since Ramirez could reconstitute, even from burning, but it would take him a lot longer.

Xavier swept up the ashes when the body was completely burned down and carried them into the cabin where the bastard was jailed. Then he joined one of the counselors from the forties on the couch whose name he consistently forgot, the one who reminded him of the old Rosie the Riveter poster. It was their turn to wait and watch Richard for the night, whenever he should appear. They played cards for a while, and when he grew tired of her beating him, he buried his face in her bosom and then sucked on her neck while her hand found its way into his trousers. Counselors of every era were always game for fun and sex, which, ironically, is how they all wound up trapped here in the first place.

Rosie, or whoever, was one of the many he had slept with at camp over the years. Some of those encounters were ways to pass time, a desperate hope that enough friction between incorporeal spirit forms would generate a spark of genuine human feeling. He’d fooled around with girls mostly but he had tried one of the boys from Kajagoogoo, just to see, but he was always the penetrator, never the penetrated, the one who had to be in total control.

He had even slept with Chef Bertie once, on an occasion when she had asked, and he had decided to try out more than one of her phantom cups of cocoa. Experienced, Bertie had known just what to do with him after all but even as a ghost, he’d felt the discomfort of crossing that line with someone he saw as more of a nurturing mother figure. It hadn’t happened again. Bertie had been fine with that; she had plenty of others there who were more than happy to keep her occupied and satisfied.

The closest he had come to real caring was Montana, but when she had fallen for Trevor, he politely stepped aside. There was no standing in the way of true love. He and Montana had always been friends and friends they would remain.

On that night, time with Rosie would be uncomplicated and easy. It would, Xavier hoped, push thoughts of that woman, Lara, along with her vibrant, living heat and her good coconut smell out of his mind, far out of his small, tight circle of existence where she did not belong. It didn’t work. Rosie sucked him off, and as she stroked him stiff and her tongue danced around the head of his cock to tickle the spot that made him spurt with a groan of satisfaction, it was Lara’s soft mouth he imagined taking his cum, it was her soft hair beneath his hand. When he went to his cabin in the morning, alone, it was her face that hovered behind his eyes as he dreamed.

\-----------------------------------------------

Lara made it back to Los Angeles at early o’clock in the morning, grateful for the darkness that hid the bloodstains on her boots and the hem of her jeans. The boots had been brand new and she was annoyed at having to get rid of them already. She bagged and tossed them into a dumpster the next morning, having spent the entire night tossing and dreaming not of the horror of the moment but of Xavier, his face in shadow and the fullness and softness of his lips.

A week passed in anxiety. Lara wondered, yet again, if her original reason for going to Redwood in the first place was misguided. She was just an ordinary person. She worked, she paid bills, she always tried to see the best in every situation and everyone. Still, the story of Redwood, upon first reading about it, had made her heart ache with such sad desperation that the only way she could ever resolve it was to help those souls she thought could be trapped there. She owed it to them to try. The debt was literal.

It mattered to her, quite personally, because it wasn’t long ago that she had learned that her mother had been Brooke Thompson, the woman who had killed the very man who had saved her and all his friends. The knowledge had hit her like a sledgehammer the day she found out. Brooke Thompson, who had the sweet face of an angel but the heart of a demon. Brooke Thompson, whose blood flowed through her veins like a dark promise, a taint, a curse.

Numb, frantic for information, Lara had stayed to herself, avoiding her parents and her brother and her friends while she obsessively researched each massacre and found the available photos from those in 1984, the one her mother had committed with such unbelievably savage cruelty for a girl barely bigger than a reed.

Xavier’s face had come up, smiling in a professional headshot. He had been an aspiring actor and an aerobics instructor. He really had been as good-looking even then as he still was in death. She had studied the faces of the others, wondering if they had been friends, if they had banded together in that night of horror or suffered alone.

The dark stranger wasn’t among the pictures in the research. She still had no idea who he was but the terror of his attack and his brutal takedown, for some reason, weren’t that important to her. Lara’s mission to save her mother’s victims was paramount, especially now, after having seen for herself that spirits bound to the Earth were a real thing. It was an insane but somehow comforting fact that she had seen one and spoken to one firsthand. She had touched one of them and that touch had been everything.

What she usually saw over that week when she closed her eyes or fell into a daydream was Xavier, whom she had left feeling as one would feel leaving a friend. It was more than just his striking looks or the way his body had felt against hers, firm and strong. It was more than the relief and the gratitude. It was as though he had triggered a memory of something, some old story she half remembered. And it had affirmed for her that she was obliged to help him escape the purgatory her mother had subjected him to. If she didn’t even try, she would be damning not just him but her own belief in herself as good and just. If she left them to that fate, she’d be no better than Brooke.

Looking at Xavier’s photo again, feeling dizzy, Lara put her suddenly feverish head in her hands. She had kissed the man her mother had murdered in an orgy of killing.

She had been saved by, and kissed by, a ghost.


	2. Where the Streets Have No Name

Driving up to Redwood on a bright, breezy Saturday morning, Lara was better prepared. She packed food and water, a flashlight, and this time a short-handled axe she had bought from a hardware store in the city. Xavier had seemed nervous about her being there as though the man he had cut down was still a danger. She had no idea what else she would find there besides him, but Xavier was all she could think about.

Time hadn’t lessened the sensation of those lips on hers or the feel of his large hands as they soothed her, or those long arms wrapped around her. Waking up with her body slick after dreaming about him and his mouth, realizing with disappointment that it wasn’t his hand but her own that was tugging at her nipples and sliding into her panties tweaking her to orgasm, she knew she had to see Xavier again, regardless of any danger. It wasn’t a want, it was a need, a lust that had taken her by surprise that she just couldn’t shake.

 _See a ghost again? So, we can do what exactly? Fall in love and fuck_? she asked herself wryly.

Ignoring the answer, she focused on what she would say to him and the others. It had occurred to her there was a strong chance they might get hostile if they knew who she really was. There was the possibility that they and Xavier might want to stay, content being young and beautiful in a safely unchanging world forever. It was also a possibility that they couldn’t survive off those grounds and would turn into wisps the moment they set foot outside the boundary line. She felt she owed it to them to at least ask what they wanted, if they wanted anything from her, if _he_ wanted anything from her.

Lara parked and walked under the threshold of the gate into camp. It was a clear, fabulously azure day. It had been a few weeks and the ground that had soaked up blood was brown and unblemished, all traces of the body gone. The fire was out in the pit and she could hear the sweet song of birds readying themselves for winter, the repetitive knocking of a woodpecker’s beak on tree bark, the craggy whispering of trees overhead as wind whipped and unfurled through their branches.

At the center of camp, she paused. She was too afraid to call out, lest she be answered by an entity that wouldn’t be so welcoming but as she turned in a circle, unsure what to do next, she felt a presence behind her. Lara turned and saw Xavier, smiling at her, and in the full light of day his beauty left her speechless.

Xavier’s almond eyes were pale aquamarine above a well-shaped nose, an exquisite jawline and those lips she remembered, generously plump and a dark, dusky pink. His hair was blonde and shining like spun fairytale gold, on top at least, and he wore it swept off his forehead in a style that was outdated but worked so well on him.

Xavier couldn’t understand why his dead heart was thrumming this way to see Lara again. Desire and lust and happiness and disappointment were all things he could feel, but pure excitement like this? No. This didn’t happen for him, not since that knife had pierced the muscle and stopped its beating permanently. Yet here it was, knocking like a wild thing come to life in his ribcage.

He had spent the last few weeks unsure how much time was passing; it could have been an hour or five years, but every other moment of that time had been full of wondering about her. He had wondered if she would ever come back, if she had even been real in the first place. Now she was here, with her hair lifting slightly away from her face in the breeze and her big, dark eyes dancing with a hint of mischief. She was real and she was here.

Impossible as it was, he felt his face flushing. He could feel the lifeforce that pulsed in her like a beacon, exotic and alluring. He resisted it, trying to keep cool and wait but then he found himself walking towards her and her feet came unglued and walked towards him. They stopped just short of touching, eyes on each other’s faces. All at once, the day took on more tone and color and grew even more beautiful.

Xavier gave her a stern look, then, or as stern as he could make it, lifting an eyebrow. “Again? You’re stubborn, huh?”

Lara nodded, holding his steady gaze. “I’ve heard that before. When I want something, I just have this urge to keep trying until I get it.”

 _What_? She hadn’t meant to say that. Usually, she was never this bold in flirting with a man and she had to wonder what was up with Lara? This felt almost desperate, but she couldn’t help herself. He was enchanted and enchanting. 

At her words, Xavier ran his tongue along his teeth with a knowing smirk and a nod, looking supremely self-satisfied. Lara’s face went hot but she smiled back.

“Hey! What’s goin’ on here?”

Lara turned. It was the girl with white-blond Eddie Van Halen hair (Montana); a man with probably the thickest mustache she had ever seen outside of a hipster micro-brewery (Trevor); a brown-skinned man with a sort of mullet-‘fro, if that was even a thing ( _Ray_ , she thought); and then an assortment of others, eyes full of wonder to see a real live human again. It had been months (or at least it seemed to them like months) since the last one.

“Everybody, this is Lara. She was here the last time Chet and doofus over there let Ramirez get away,” Xavier explained with a sarcastic glance at Chet, who gave him the finger, sullenly murmuring, “Fuck you, X.”

“Hey, everyone. Nice to finally meet you. I’ve… well, I don’t want to sound like a groupie, but I’ve heard about you all. I admit I’m kinda in shock right now and I’m wondering if I’m just imagining this but so far, it seems real,” Lara said, looking at them all. No one seemed to have harmful intentions behind their eyes, but they were regarding her as though she were a babbling moron. Lara thought perhaps they were right.

“Why are you here again?” Montana asked, eyeing her shape and her clothes and shoes. She didn’t seem impressed by Lara’s faux sherling jacket, jeans or boots with nary an animal print or fringe in sight. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s a bad idea to go traipsing around in a haunted campsite?”

“I’m sure no one thought they’d need to,” Lara said with a helpless shrug, which earned her a few laughs. “I know this is going to sound kinda crazy, but I’ve heard rumors about you all being here and I thought… I thought I’d like to help, if I could.” She flushed again, feeling stupid as they gawked at her.

“Help? Sweetheart, if you really want to help, can you get the power turned on and pay the electric bill so we could at least watch television?” Trevor asked and the others murmured and nodded vigorously.

“I meant ‘help’ as in help you leave Redwood. I’m assuming it’s cursed, and you’d leave if you could,” she clarified, and they all started talking at once.

The day became a whirl as it dawned on her again that she was speaking with the dead and they all seemed so real but then, so surreal. The sky started a blue swirling, clouds blending dizzyingly for a moment, but then Xavier’s patient eyes drew her back down to earth. She pulled herself together at his reassuring look and refocused.

“Go back out there and age? Not everybody wants to sprout grey hair out of their ears. Let us know if you can get that t.v. working and then we’ll talk. Also, if you could get some blow, that would be great. Other than that, I’m good here,” Trevor said, squeezing Montana’s shoulder lovingly.

“Some of us might just be better off in here,” Ray said. Lara understood; she had read about the cold case on him in connection to the dead college boy found in a ravine, last seen alive with Ray. He was staring at her, slowly taking in her eyes and her mouth, and her face warmed. “It’s cool of you to want to help but… thanks, but no thanks.”

Lara looked at the others, who all more or less shrugged and started to move on. Montana did look back at her, and at Xavier, who was still standing there.

“Who are you again?” Montana asked her with a faint wondering smile with her eyes made up in perpetual sky blue.

“Just someone who wants to help. I don’t want anything from you,” Lara answered, knowing full well that was only partially true.

She did want something from Montana, from all of them. It was her own absolution. Brooke had paid her debt to society but these people, her victims, were still paying for her crimes. Lara didn’t know how much of that evil flowed through her own veins, but standing before them, the inherited guilt pressed on her heart with even more force.

Lara hoped ghosts didn’t read minds. Montana moved on when Trevor intertwined his fingers in hers and they headed off past the tall trees. Finally, it was just her and Xavier. He was looking at her with those vivid eyes, folding long arms over his chest. Still wondering at her, still needing an answer for a question he hadn’t yet asked. He chose a different question.

“So. What’s the big world like right now?” he asked and inclined his head.

He began walking and she followed, until they came to a series of wooden stairs and a dock overlooking a deep lake fringed by trees for at least a mile around. Some of the others were in a boat on the water, splashing each other and laughing. Their voices seemed so far away, snatched by the cold breeze. She guessed the dead didn’t have a problem with the chill Autumn air.

Lara had to think about her answer. “Busy. Loud. People like being entertained pretty much constantly, by everything.”

“Ugh, that’s exactly what I would have wanted to be doing,” Xavier responded with a groan, pressing his chest in an unconscious gesture. “Did you know I was an actor? Not just commercials and being an extra, I was getting callbacks for big shows. Everything was right on the horizon.”

“Yes, I knew that,” Lara said with a smile pulling at her mouth. “Aerobics just paid the bills or did you like doing it?”

“Yeah, I did enjoy having the most popular class in Hollywood,” Xavier said with a slight head toss. Then he laughed. “I’ve heard that’s already done. What do they do now to keep in shape?”

“It’s one fad after another, I can’t keep up,” Lara said. “I guess now it’s cutting back on eating anything from animals. No meat, no dairy, eggs, stuff like that.”

Xavier seemed only a little surprised. “That’s easy for me. We don’t really need to eat anything anymore.”

“Well, that’s the ultimate fitness plan,” Lara said, and he laughed.

They appreciated the beauty of the late morning, the bare birch trees scattered among the pines that were still thick and verdant, and the sun a cool yellow. Things felt ancient, timeless. Xavier loved this view, despite all the awful things he had seen happen here, things he had done to those who deserved it and, regrettably, to those who didn’t.

“Sometimes I hate it here. But mostly I’m used to it. I’ve tried leaving and I’ve never made it past the gate. And then, over time, I just accepted it. This is where I belong. I mean, what would I do if I could get out? Wander the Earth, invisible? At least here, I’m not alone. I could choke some of them sometimes but at least we’re together.”

“I could see that. But what if you could get out and see the world again? See new movies, listen to new music, maybe get a make-over?” she said softly looking at his frosted tips and he twisted his lips sarcastically at her teasing.

Lara’s words had struck the deepest possible nerve in him, naming all the very things he most ardently missed. Cinema, music, styles and trends; he had lived for all that shit and it ached that he was missing out while the world turned and innovated and went on without him.

“How could I walk out of here and be Xavier Plympton again? He’s dead, remember? I saw them wheel my body out of here.”

“Pay someone to get you a new social security number and a birth certificate with a shiny new name on it,” she suggested, as though she had already considered that. She smiled. “Maybe something a little less flashy than ‘Plympton’, at any rate. John Long or Marty Lange, I don’t know. What was your father’s first name?”

“I wouldn’t use it,” Xavier said, and there was a half smirk, half frown crossing his face. “My Dad was a decent guy but not exactly Father of the Year material. I’ll be honest, I was never crazy about ‘Plympton’ but I’d keep Xavier. How’d you like to see ‘Xavier Lange’ on a marquee?” he said, and his hand moved in a grand, sweeping gesture.

Lara didn’t have the heart to tell him they no longer put actor’s names on marquees, if the movie even made it to the theater at all instead of heading straight to cable or streaming. She thought they might have had HBO in his time but how was she going to explain the Internet?

Xavier continued, “Anyhow, I’d pay for a new ‘soshe’ and a birth certificate with what? I don’t have any money. Before I got here, I was taking my showers at the aerobics studio where I worked and sleeping in my van. I’m pretty sure the thousand bucks I had stuffed under the wheel housing was found by now,” Xavier said wryly, then shook his head and sighed. “Pretty but dumb, that’s what they used to call me. But even I know your plan sounds a little too simplistic.”

Lara tried arguing with him, but he wouldn’t be swayed. Finally, she gave up and just enjoyed his banter and his quirky sense of humor. They were at the waterside for some time, just talking, and then as the chill in the air grew more pronounced and he saw her rubbing her hands together, he pulled them between his and pressed. Long fingers wrapped around hers and warmed them with his touch, even though she was the living one. He was smiling at her and her face grew hotter than his hands.

“I should probably go before it gets too late,” Lara finally said. She was loath to leave.

“You probably should,” Xavier answered. He didn’t want her to leave either.

They walked slowly back to the gate and when they reached it, they paused. Xavier thought about the last time they had been there as he looked down at her shapely lips and then back at her eyes, warm velvet in the afternoon light. He really didn’t want her to go but he knew nothing else would make sense. She didn’t belong there in that world with him. He was a shadow that never seemed to find its way to full sunlight whereas she was vibrating, glorious life.

Xavier reached for her despite all the reasons not to and pulled her closer for a kiss. She wasn’t fragile but something about her seemed so delicate in that moment, something ephemeral that could slip through his fingers if he tried grasping too tightly. Her mouth moved in response against his. There was that taste he had missed, her sweetness, and this time he was the one who had to hold in a murmur of pleasure.

“Good bye, Lara,” Xavier said thickly when he could break the contact. His fingers traced the smooth outline of her cheekbones and the heart-shaped curve of her chin. “Thanks for wanting to help. But you can’t. No one can. It would be better if you didn’t come back.”

And then he was abruptly gone. The outline of him seemed to shimmer in the air before her, just out of reach. It was as though he wanted to emphasize his absence of life, for no living being could do that, disappear as he had done. Trembling, feeling deprived of him, Lara turned and walked to her car and drove away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Where the Streets Have No Name" by U2.
> 
> The line "fall in love and fuck" is taken from a scene in the movie "28 Days Later".


	3. Just Say No (To Drugs)

Time had moved agonizingly slowly but then it was suddenly the following Friday afternoon. Lara finished up her article for the magazine, e-mailed it to her editor before it was even lunchtime and then drove straight from home to the highway. She was up at Redwood within a few hours. When she pulled up at the camp, she carried her weekender bag and her lantern with her, summoning her courage yet again. This third time was still no easier than the first; if anything, it carried with it an even greater sense of anxiety because the residents had specifically said her help and her presence weren’t wanted.

Xavier and the others were around the campfire, talking and smoking what smelled like weak, ancient weed almost completely devoid of power. They looked up at her approach with astonishment, including Xavier, who stood and came to her immediately. He inclined his head to the left and she followed, unsure if the look on his face was one of excitement to see her or annoyance.

He led her to a shed that he had claimed as his own cabin. When they got in, he took her lantern and put it on the table near the bed made neatly with an old, patchwork quilt. Xavier looked at her a long moment, shaking his head as if disappointed that she had come back despite what he’d said but he couldn’t disguise the want in his eyes. Shakily, Lara dropped her pack and went to him, and he enveloped her in his warmth, wordless, sinking, kissing, touching. They stumbled together, and Xavier’s fingers on the buttons of her shirt were unsteady with haste but then he paused.

“I should tell you…” Xavier replied softly. Lara was looking up at him with her eyes so beautifully soft and he didn’t want to ruin this moment, but he had to say it. He vaguely remembered women in the real world often had expectations and he had hurt a lot of them in his time. Too many. “What we do now is just for now. There won’t be a second time. We should stop if you’re not okay with that.”

Smiling up at him a bit wistfully, she grew even more gorgeous. Telling herself she would take just this one weekend with him and be more than satisfied, she whispered, “I don’t want to stop.”

That smile could have stopped his heart again. Xavier resumed his work and their clothes were gone. The cold air in the cabin hit her skin, and goosebumps rose. Xavier ran his hands up and down her arms and then her back to warm the silkiness he found, and as he kissed her with those soft, juicy lips she nestled into him, seeking his heat like a missile, and found it. She loved the strength in his encircling arms, the solid comfort of his chest and his big hands that stroked her hair and, tenderly, the sides of her face.

Xavier’s teeth scraped at her mouth, his tongue was long and insistent as he drank from hers. Her breasts in his palms were squeezed rhythmically, then worshipped by that tongue as he lavished attention on her nipples. He licked and nibbled on them until they were stiff and aching in his mouth. Fingers roamed over her skin, testing, teasing her until she radiated heat.

Lara’s own moans sounded foreign to her when Xavier’s fingers skimmed down her belly and parted her lower lips. He found her clit and softly flicked it back and forth, reaching lower to retrieve a drop of moisture from her passage and then using it to soothe and make her nub slick enough to withstand a more direct, more forceful touch. She was gripping his shoulders to keep steady on her feet while he rubbed her down as his mouth sucked almost desperately at her nipple.

“Please… please,” she whispered against the soft blonde strands tickling her collarbone.

She didn’t know what she was asking for, exactly, she was just all want, all need, focused on him and him only. Xavier answered her by pushing her down on his bed, sweet golden lantern light glancing over his features and the long, graceful lines of his defined body as he gazed down at her. She was gorgeous, and so, so _alive_. He wanted to kiss and lick every inch of her, memorize every second of this encounter, feel every part of her, because of course, he couldn’t keep her. This had to last him for a while.

Their lips touched again when he sank down on top of her, and she welcomed the weight of him, breathless with anticipation. When they kissed this time, it was slower. Xavier was holding back from the full onslaught that his body was demanding so he could savor this as long as possible. Breaths mingled, sighs were swallowed, and her mouth was a fountain that he sipped from with the most delicious, lifegiving liquid he had ever tasted.

He kept it gentle as long as he could, but he had to fight the crushing need to bury himself inside her. His mouth was then harder on her, taking but also giving, and he groaned excited encouragement when her hands tweaked his nipples, making them hard for her, and then ran down his belly to tangle in the hair at his groin. One of her hands slipped to his ass, squeezing its firmness, and the other caught his cock, at first running up and down leisurely and gently.

Xavier’s hips bucked involuntarily at the feel of both those soft hands. He didn’t know what he wanted more, her hand continuing to stroke his cock to stiffness or to taste the valley between her thighs. He could smell her arousal. Pushing her thighs apart with his knee, he decided to tease her a bit first while he decided what to do to her next.

Balancing on one hand, Xavier held his cock against her slit and rubbed up and down, slowly, collecting her sticky juices on the head and hissing as it mixed with the drops of precum at his tip. Gently, he stroked it against her clit and looked down between their bodies while he did it. It felt fucking fantastic, and he wasn’t even inside her yet.

“Do you like that?” he asked her in a hushed voice.

Her eyes were on his face and she nodded, whispering “Yes,” as her legs opened wider. Xavier’s face was flushing, but not quite as deeply as the shiny tip of his cock that was teasing and torturing her. Each rub up and down her folds felt even better than the last and her clit was so needy for more, but she was aching to feel him inside her. Lara couldn’t help herself; as his cock dipped into her cleft again to swipe up moisture, her hips rocked upward to capture him, and he sank in halfway. Her cunt welcomed him, clenching greedily around him to pull him deeper within, and his thickness even just halfway inside her was an unimaginable pleasure.

Xavier held himself, suspended, wanting to be all the way inside her but also needing to savor every second. He lost the struggle and pushed in, slowly, feeling her walls pulsing and gripping him with an incredible soaking heat he hadn’t felt in what seemed like ages.

“Oh my God,” he breathed then laughed and abruptly pulled out. Lara made a sound of acute disappointment, but he grinned, and his sexy smile blindsided her for a moment. “Let’s take this a little slower, if you don’t mind,” he said.

“Do your thing,” Lara said, and her own smile played on her lips. Stray locks of buttery gold swept across his eyes and she pushed them out of the way with gentle, worshipful fingers. God, he was beautiful. He could do whatever he wanted to her, as long as he didn’t stop.

Xavier wasn’t done yet with his torture. He pulled away long enough to plant open-mouthed kisses all down her body from the delicate skin under her ear to her nipples again, so ripe in his mouth, then her soft, concave belly, her ticklish hips, then her pussy, open and steaming hot. Tonguing her clit until she was gripping his hair made him want to laugh again; her panting and inarticulate moans as her hips began to jerk under him made him crazed. Lips fastened on her nub and he sucked and sucked until she nearly screamed but he stopped, again, before she could come. Juices sliding from her wet opening were salted honey that he drank greedily, anxiously, as though she were the one with the power to suddenly disappear.

Lara’s walls were flexing as a delicious orgasm was trembling, just hovering somewhere between the knot of her clit and her belly, and she was right on that edge. Xavier must have felt it too because he cruelly, suddenly paused again before she could finish.

“Xavier!” she cried with frustration.

He closed his eyes for a long moment, torn between a smile and a gasp to hear her say his name with such need. It felt too fucking good, hearing it from her lips. She was too real now. Nothing else was.

“Relax. Unless you’ve got somewhere to be, I’ve got time,” he said, risking a joke at his own expense and she smiled. That smile made him breathless, if what he was even doing was breathing. “How long can you stay?”

“Three days,” she answered.

He exhaled and with relief, bent down to her and into all that lovely heat. There was another long, delirious period of kissing and stroking. Xavier built up his rhythm again, loving how she moaned when his cock, glistening with her own fluids, swirled her clit and almost drove her to madness. _He_ was the one being driven mad. He couldn’t wait anymore. Xavier lifted her knees, then, and slowly sank in to her core and breathed out quietly, his eyes closing and head dipping almost as if in prayer. When he opened them again, they were darkened blue-black with pure lust. He began to move in her cunt slick like sugary, gooey sap, and as her breath came shorter and she gasped with rapture, he stroked deeper and harder.

Lara dazedly watched Xavier’s face as he fucked her slowly and felt full, felt overwhelmed by him, his scent, his beauty, the taste of his skin on her tongue. It made no sense to her that the one man who was supposedly dead was the one who had felt more alive to her than anyone she’d ever known, that his body on top of hers felt so solidly real, that his cock gliding and pushing her to release was hot and fat and throbbing with vitality. She was probably imagining this, probably not sane, but in the moment, she would take whatever he offered her and be thankful.

Xavier’s breath was hitching in his chest and the pleasure was too intense; he knew it wouldn’t be long for him no matter how much he tried to hold back. He paused his hips long enough to nudge her legs wider so he could grind against her clit, then stroke into her pussy, grind, stroke, continuously, until his hips were slamming into her almost uncontrollably.

It felt impossibly good. Lara’s mouth fell open, and she drew her breath in once, twice and then shouted as a bright starburst exploded in her belly. Xavier urged her on, whispering “Yes, yes, that’s right, come for me, come for me,” and she did, in throbbing waves that didn’t seem to end until she was all liquid gold inside and gushing on his cock, and he followed, spurting and bathing her walls in molten silk. Glorious.

Stroking skin, they held each other afterwards, not wanting to move and disturb the peace of what they had just created together.

Finally, his fingers touching her hair, Xavier softly asked her, “Why would you risk coming back to a place like this again? Most people who can leave go and never look back.”

“It’s hard to explain,” she answered slowly, her face thoughtful. “I hardly knew you but… I missed you. I was going through my everyday routine and everything just felt…”

“Like something wasn’t right,” he finished for her and she smiled at him, nodding with relief that he understood, that he shared the sensation of their two worlds needing to merge. “Something’s always felt off for me, even before I came here, so I’m used to that. But without you around, yeah. It’s been worse. I missed you, too.”

As hard as it was for Xavier to say that, it was harder to keep the truth from her. Lara smiled at his admission, and felt the bonds tightening around her heart in response. Kissing him lightly with just the barest pressure of her lips, she was happy and soft in his arms.

“Why are you all here? Do you know if there is a heaven after this?” she asked him, touching his chest lightly with warm fingertips where his heart would be. She felt it, right there beneath her palm, as real as her own.

“I have no idea, to be honest. If I left here…. if that were possible…I don’t think I’d be going to a heaven if there was one,” he said slowly, and his smile was sorrowful but oh so sweet to her. “But me getting out isn’t possible. I’ve tried. And you shouldn’t come back here again either. I don’t want to lie to you. I’m kinda crazy about you and I want to keep you but I can’t. We can’t do this again. You can’t keep coming here, Lara.”

She propped herself up on her elbow and studying him, saw that he was serious, about all of it. It was the sweetest, yet the worst thing he could possibly have said to her. Now she was somewhere between deeply touched and saddened. Lara touched his cheek softly as he ran his fingers up her arm.

“You not getting into heaven would be criminal. You look like an angel.”

“You should know looks can be deceiving. I’m not one of the good guys,” he said softly and the expression in his pale eyes was of utter darkness.

After a moment of heavy silence, Lara said, “If you don’t want to see me again after Monday, then, okay. I’ll respect your decision.”

Hearing her say that, Xavier turned his face away with a deep sigh and pushed his fingertips against his lids. He nodded, not speaking for a long while as the wind outside the cabin blew and filled the silence. She lay down again and he pulled her into his arms and wouldn’t let go for the rest of the night. She fell asleep first and he watched her, memorizing the sweep of her long, dark lashes and the slope of her nose. Her berry-pink lips were parted, and he traced their softness gently.

 _What would it be like to have this, forever_? Xavier wondered errantly. His eyes were involuntarily drawn to the machete he kept by the bedside and a half-crazed thought suddenly consumed his mind and wouldn’t leave. Pressing it under the warmth of her body, he stopped the hand that was itching to reach for the blade, the instrument of destruction that would be his salvation, the one thing that could keep her there.


	4. Nirvana

Then the beauty and the misery set in. Lara and Xavier cocooned themselves in his cabin for the next few days, talking and cuddling and discovering each other’s bodies as often as possible. In between the loving, he watched her with wonder while she did mundane human things like eating or showering in the makeshift bathroom he had arranged. It seemed he couldn’t get enough of watching her, studying her, enjoying her as she talked about her life and the world outside, which was amazing enough on its own.

Xavier couldn’t lie; even though he remained pessimistic about ever seeing it again, he did think the world would be worth seeing. He missed people, life, change. He would willingly give up his right arm to watch a film again, an old favorite or something completely new. Some hapless camper had left a CD player with flat discs in it before being chased off in a laughably funny panic, but the batteries for that and his Walkman were long dead.

New music would fill him up to the teeth with joy. Kajagoogoo played the same two hits repeatedly and the last time he had heard that “hush, hush” song, he had flipped the fuck out and buzzed the lead singer with the chainsaw to get them to finally stop. When he admitted that to her (not the killing but the part about missing music), Xavier was stunned when she showed him a device in her bag which contained hundreds of songs, and it had no battery casing or things to insert like a tape or a disc.

She played a song for him with a crazy title “Smells Like Teen Spirit” by a band called Nirvana and he literally jumped up in the air and laughed when he listened to the first few bars through the headphones. It blew him away. And then as the album played, unexpected emotion welled up in his throat and Xavier cried. He cried because it was awesome and amazing, the frenetic, joyful music a backdrop to the emotional singing of a damaged soul overcoming torment to gift the world with his energy and his genius.

A dam seemed to break in him, and he just cried, for everything he had missed and would continue to miss while she just watched him, commiserating silently. He couldn’t possibly explain to her the longing that he carried around like a constant itch, the desire to _do something_ , anything to feel that spark of life again, or just to disappear and not exist at all.

Then there were more moments of joy with her, laughter, ecstasy in her arms, her breath in his hair. And then it was misery again on Sunday afternoon, as the next morning was what he had chosen for their severing. She was going to leave him on Monday and never come back. Believing this was his only chance to have her understand him, he told her his story, from beginning to end. This was his last chance at a confession and being known by someone who seemed to care.

The bullet points: he had been raised by his alcoholic mother after his father had run out on her, leaving Xavier alone to handle her sad rage. At eighteen, barely making it out of high school, he left home to go to L.A. to be a Big Star. Everybody told him he was hot, he was a babe, of course he could make it easily. But he found easy wasn’t easy and he saddled up to mount the white horse to ease his worries and his boredom and rode that shit almost into the sunset. He wound up on the streets and did favors, for men, to pay for the privilege of slowly killing himself.

Then there was Blake, who had at first saved him, then controlled him, abused him, tried to ruin him, and who now hid himself from Xavier in the camp. Dirty motherfucker. Blake had tried appearing a few times in the beginning to “make amends” but finally stopped after Xavier had captured, tortured and killed him, brutally, each time. The only thing that made being trapped for an eternity with Blake bearable was the assurance that he couldn’t hurt more lost boys.

That was why, Xavier explained to her as they sat in bed together, he couldn’t leave. It had nothing to do with the Lady in White, whose rage was long gone; it wasn’t because he needed to help imprison Ramirez. It was because he deserved to be there, for his own vanity and lack of control, for being weak and easily manipulated by someone like Blake, for being the reason his friends had ended up hunted and slaughtered, for killing innocents to make himself feel something, for fucking up over and over again to the point where his very existence had become an actual question mark for whoever was running the Universe. He imagined that Being asking, “What should we do with Xavier?” And the answer: “Eh. _Who cares_?”

Lara just listened, let him pour everything out. She found herself choked up and wiped tears away as they began slipping down. She was angry at what he had told her, furious at what had been done to him and furious _with_ him for giving up on himself.

“Well, now you know who I am. What do you think of your angel now?” he asked with soft sarcasm. 

“I think… if anybody else had walked up and said all that about you to your face, you’d punch them in the throat. There’s more to you than bad decisions and mistakes, Xavier.”

Xavier’s eyes were thoughtful and surprised at her unexpectedly blunt response. “It’s not just bad decisions like getting a tattoo in Vegas when you’re drunk. I’ve actually killed people, people who didn’t deserve it.”

“If they’re here, find them and tell them you’re sorry. Make things right if you can,” she answered earnestly.

“I have apologized. I’m still here. _They’re_ still here. Nothing changes,” he said with frustration.

“Nothing’s changed _yet_. I just hope you don’t spend another thirty years telling yourself the story you just told me. You’re not the monster you think you are. I know it.”

Finally, Xavier was done arguing. The sweet, stubborn creature in his bed wasn’t giving up on the ideal of him she had created in her mind and he couldn’t overcome that any more than he could make the moon stop rising. He just sat holding her hand and looking out the window at the late afternoon sun, glowing dark honey and so beautiful sinking low into the trees.

“At least I’ll never get tired of seeing that,” Xavier told her softly and she turned to watch with him as the sun went down.

Then it was Monday. Xavier held her tightly in his arms in the shadow of the gate for as long as he felt he could function, and then he kissed her cheek and her mouth and then, stiffly, dropped his arms and stepped back. Lara was standing there, unable to leave.

“Please go,” he said softly. He stood with his hands loose at his sides, one of them rising slightly as if he wanted to reach out to her. But he didn’t. “Please go.” Now his eyes were straight lines, fierce like an ocean set ablaze.

Heart dropping, Lara turned away and somehow, her feet got her across the threshold and down the path to her car. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away. She didn’t dare look back. If she did, she knew there was no way she would escape without turning into a pillar of salt, gazing back at the ruin of Redwood, stricken by its endless, eternal feedback loop of guilt and shame and terror.

Then, suddenly angry, she got in the car and slammed the door shut as she sat down behind the wheel and cried. She didn’t care if he could see her. Deep down, she knew it was hurting him for her to leave but she convinced herself it was all a lie, his caring, their surreal bond, all of it had just been yet another way for him to pass the time. He asked her to go, and he could only do something like that because he didn’t want her. That’s what she had to tell herself to be able to turn the engine on and drive away.

\------------------------------------

Lara was back a week later, on Friday night. She didn’t give a shit what Xavier had said; she knew there was more to them than one weekend of awesomely mind-blowing sex and rock and roll. Driven by need, by a deep thirst that woke her up shaking in the night feeling for him in her bed, she had no choice but to go back.

She walked right into camp where he was sitting with the crew and they stared at her as though she were out of her mind, which of course she was. Xavier’s mouth was open, but he closed it quickly with a wild look in his eyes and came around the fire to grip her arm and pull her to his cabin away from the others, who were staring at each other knowingly and shaking their heads.

Lara could barely keep up with him, her feet almost skipping across the ground raking up dirt and dried, crumpled leaves until they were in his cabin. He pushed her in, almost contemptuously, and paced the side of the room as far from her as he could physically get despite its tiny size.

Xavier could hardly contain the emotions coursing through him with a power he hadn’t felt since he was alive. He had missed her so fucking much. He had spent his time barely bothering to take form, closed off with his spirit invisible to all for days, trying not to feel this tormented longing. And just when he had pulled himself together, when he could put on clothes and sit with the others and pretend everything was cool, here she was, fucking him up all over again.

“Why are you here?” he finally managed to ask. “I thought you said you would respect my decision.”

“I tried,” she answered matter-of-factly.

“Every time you come here, you put yourself in danger. No one survives here, not for long. What don’t you get about that?” he asked with a rising voice. He was barely able to hold in the frustration and the fear for her that was overwhelming him. “I want you out there alive and being a _person_ , not in here like me, not like this.”

“What if we could be out there together? Why won’t you try?” she argued with her chest pounding and her eyes aflame.

“I fucking _told_ you already, I can’t! I’m here to stay, I’ve fucked up too much. I’ve told you what I’ve done and it’s like it’s just not sinking in. What’s the matter with you?” he uttered.

He was angry, he was exasperated with her but there was more behind those eyes, and she could see it in him, read him as easily as graffiti scrawled on a wall. His agitation was masking excitement and his fear was of the desire he was fighting; he was afraid it would overtake him, that he would lose control.

Her eyes narrow on him, Lara stepped forward into his orbit, radiating defiance. Xavier was trembling, glaring down at her with a muscle ticking in his cheek. She looked up into his eyes and slowly, slowly, ran her hands up his arms and then slid them around his waist and stepped in and just breathed. His arms rose and enveloped her, and they just breathed, together.

“If you want me to go, I’ll go,” she whispered as he sighed defeat, his eyes closing at the feel of her flooding him with drowsy, delicious warmth, and his mouth travelled across her temple and her eyelids and then down to her lips.

“You said that last time. You’re a fucking liar,” Xavier murmured against her mouth. “ _Fuck_. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” she whispered, and then they were lost, together.

Xavier got her naked and into his bed as fast as he could, and then he was kissing her and inhaling her. His mouth tasted and remembered every line of her, every soft, tiny flexible bit of flesh that could harden under his tongue and between his thick lips. His long finger slid inside her sweet stickiness, drove her gently to madness as her mouth fell open, lips slightly upturned in a smile.

She was soaked already, and his finger was coated with her arousal, making it easier to work her faster, then slower, and then trail down her body to add his big tongue to the action. Lara’s breath skipped out, almost close to a laugh at the pure joy of what he was doing to her. Yes, this was it, the tongue she had gotten addicted to in their last weekend together, and he was lapping her up as though he’d been dying of thirst.

“I should make you pay for what you've done to me,” he whispered unsteadily while his finger dragged in and out slowly. Lara couldn’t speak, only moan as she was tormented by his hot breath skimming the aching nub. “Yeah, I should make you pay for what you’ve done, making me miss you like that.”

Xavier couldn’t make good on the threat, he wanted her too badly. He couldn’t help himself, he had to keep licking, sucking, stroking her until she arched her back and pumped her pussy into his mouth. He could feel the rhythmic vibrations gripping his finger and knew she was coming hard, silently, with her fingers rough in his hair, and he could have melted in her heat.

As she shivered, she looked down and saw Xavier smiling at her with a wicked combination of arrogance and satisfaction. Still shaking with her release, Lara laughed a little. She was high on him, verging on delirious with pleasure and love. Yes, love. There was nothing else to call this.

 _Well, there’s lust_ , she thought to herself and smiled dreamily. Whatever this was, she was hooked, and she knew it.

“Did you get what you came for?” Xavier drawled against her thigh, pressing kisses on the quivering flesh.

He climbed upwards towards her on all fours, panther-like with bright aqua eyes taking in her every feature. Lara smiled up at him and pulled him down into her for a deep kiss.

“Only _some_ of what I came for,” she replied, and the way she laughed with her voice so sweetly sexy sent a shock of anticipation dancing down his spine.

It was Xavier’s turn to feel the agony of ecstasy when she recovered and began her own journey down his lean body, hard everywhere hers was soft. He laid back and smiled as she kissed his mouth, tasting herself on him. He laid himself open to her to do whatever she wanted with him, his hands sliding into her hair and lightly scraping her warm scalp with his short fingernails. His smile was lost to open-mouthed pleasure as she sucked on his tender left earlobe ( _fuck, she remembered_ ), then lathered his flat cinnamon-brown nipples to hardness, and then dipped her tongue in his navel just once but enough to make his thick thighs tremble at what he knew was coming next.

And then she tenderly lapped at the head of his dick, so stiff it was almost painful. It was Lara’s turn to smile with evil joy when he groaned as she tongued up and down his shaft, fingers stroking when she returned to the shiny tip to lavish it with loving attention. His cock was a sight to behold, long, thick, turning darker as the bulbous head welled fluid at the slit. Licking every ridge and vein, she then enveloped as much of him as she could fit in her mouth, beginning to suction and stroke simultaneously while his breath hitched, and he quietly praised her and caressed her hair. “You do that so good. Fuck, yes…suck me, just like that...”

Experimentally, she ran a finger down his balls to his perineum, pressing it lightly and he jumped. At first, she wasn’t sure if he liked it but as she rubbed that spot gently, his legs widened, silent permission to access this most intimate space. Continuing to suck and stroke, her finger tapped the smooth, spongy zone and then lightly circled the rim beneath. Xavier’s breath escaped him in a long hiss and his cock twitched in her mouth.

"Is this okay?" she asked softly.

"Yes," he answered hoarsely, his voice hushed.

She paused to retrieve something from her pack, a small bottle of viscous fluid. When she turned back to him, Xavier saw it was lube.

"I didn't know if we'd need this or not but I thought...maybe," Lara said and he grinned breathlessly.

Xavier didn't say anything, just nodded and lay back with his pulse pounding as she slicked the finger well with the lube and gently pressed it into the hole. Xavier jumped again, whispering, “Fuck _me_!” and she couldn’t tell if it was an exclamation of passion or a command or both. She pressed in further, past the knuckle, while he moaned louder and let his legs widen further. Finally, she was in as far as she was able to go and dragged her finger in and out slowly and carefully, still sucking him, still loving on him.

Full, soft lips formed into a smile around his turgid cock to see how her pretty boy was moving his firm ass with his passage clenching tightly on her finger. Thick, guttural sounds of pleasure were deep in his throat, and his taut thighs were shaking as he took it and took it, and he reached to tug on her hair. He gasped and then he yelled. At that moment, her mouth was flooded with salty cream and it pulsed out of him in rivers and rivulets until he was spent and weak, head moving on the pillow, eyes shut closed and mouth open with abandon. Lara practically burned with satisfaction to see him so unraveled, to know that she had been the one who had brought him to such a beautiful release.

Xavier pulled her up almost roughly, his face turned away while he gripped her tightly. After a time where he just held her and trembled, he turned back to her. There were tears on his face. She didn’t know what was running through his mind, if he was upset or happy. But then he kissed her, passionately, gratefully, and his heart was thundering against hers.

“I haven’t let anybody do that to me in a long time. I’m glad it was with you,” he said quietly after a moment. “I wish I could have waited to do everything with you.”

“Do what you want with me now,” Lara said with a slow smile.

Xavier’s heart clutched at that smile and felt a deep jolt in his belly at her words. His heavy leg slanted over hers and she was surprised to find a hardness pressing between her legs. Opening up for his entry, she arched her back when he slid home and gasped a laugh.

“How?” she started to ask but then lost her powers of speech as his hips began pumping slowly.

“Just one of the perks of being a ghost,” he joked hoarsely and got down to work.


	5. In Here, Out There

Thus, Lara’s weekdays were spent in the ordinary outside world, going about her business and humming with happiness on Fridays because she would be driving up to see Xavier. Then, on Monday mornings as she drove back to L.A., tears would be rolling down her cheeks at leaving him yet again.

Sometimes she did have to wonder what life outside Redwood might be like for her with Xavier not if but when he made it out, the ways in which the ordinary might alter what they had. It was easy to envision the good things. The two of them would explore the world, growing as individuals and together. So very easily, she could picture seeing his gorgeous face on a screen while she spun out worlds from her fingertips. Already (and this fantasy was the one that made her blush foolishly) she was screening in her mind the movie he would star in, as written by her. Days would be full of flourishing creativity and laughter, while nights would be a revelation of unbelievable passion. Always, always, there would be tenderness, the bare, bright beauty of him lighting up her world.

Still, she couldn’t ignore the ways real life could step in and strip some of the color from romance, like droplets of turpentine sprinkling on a vivid Van Gogh landscape. She had lived with a boyfriend once and the day-to-day had worn the sheen off their shiny romance rather quickly. Right now, she didn’t have to deal with Xavier’s shirts on the floor or Xavier leaving dishes in the sink or Xavier learning how to play Xbox and essentially never leaving the couch. Redwood’s peculiar rhythms, for all its moments of violent chaos, were a respite from worry about work, bills, traffic, all the routine First World bullshit. How well would he adjust after an absence of decades?

Another uneasy thought lurked in the shadowy spaces in the back of her mind, namely, that with Xavier tucked away from the world, she never had to worry about his head turning. Lara believed him when he said he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else at the camp, aside from that throwaway session with Rosie the Riveter when he hadn’t believed Lara would come back. She felt she would know if he was lying. Now, Lara imagined a free Xavier out in the real world, a charming, sexy, good-looking man with his pick of real, flesh and blood women who would be more than happy to be his Sugar Momma, women who would pamper him with little luxuries and drown him in real pussy at the snap of his long fingers.

Xavier was hungry for her. His need for her was palpable, radiating from him like a star, but that wasn’t the same thing as love. She had to ask herself that question: would she still be willing to help Xavier get out if there was a risk of losing him to boredom, to complacency, to someone else? Her answer was yes, always yes, every time.

Lara loved him. Very simply, she loved him, even if she hadn’t said it, whether or not he felt it. She would selfishly, unabashedly enjoy every second she had him all to herself at camp, but she wanted him free, above all else, because that’s what he deserved.

\---------------------------------

Her parents and her brother knew something was up with her. She usually had dinner at their house at least one Sunday a month but she’d been MIA for several weekends in a row. When her mother asked what was going on, Lara could only mumble that she was busy and couldn’t ( _wouldn’t_ ) offer a good explanation. Aside from spending time with Xavier, she just couldn’t face them with the knowledge of the truth hanging over her head.

It was on a Wednesday that her doorbell rang. She swung the door open wide with happiness and stepped out to give the fashionably dressed woman standing there a huge hug.

“Hey, Auntie Dee!” Lara exclaimed.

“Hey, baby girl!” Auntie Dee replied.

Donna had come over for dinner and dessert, chatting about her work at the hospital and basic gossip. She was Lara’s favorite aunt, watching over Lara as closely and fiercely as her parents.

“So who’s this new man your Mom is telling me you’re hiding from everyone?” Donna said conspiratorially when they had a moment together on the couch with a cup of tea. Lara admired, as usual, Donna’s flawless make up and smooth skin; she never admitted her age, but she was beautiful and crackled with energy.

“Oh, Auntie,” Lara said rolling her eyes. “Don’t listen to Mom’s tales. Every time I so much as look at a man, she swears I’m falling down a rabbit hole.”

 _Although this time, she might actually be right_ , Lara thought.

“When are we going to meet him?” Donna asked.

“I really can’t say. I’m just enjoying him right now,” Lara said simply. She hoped it didn’t sound evasive, which of course it was.

Donna smiled. “Good for you, honey. You deserve to have things go exactly the way you want. So long as he’s treating you good and you’re happy, we’re happy.”

Lara had to think about that. Was she happy with the way things were going, with the idea that she and Xavier might never really be able to be together if he refused to try leaving the camp? Her mood shifted and her eyes were a little sad. Donna noticed but didn’t say anything more about it.

“Well, tell me about _your_ new man,” Lara smiled, rousing herself from her thoughts. “Speaking of men nobody’s seen yet!”

“Girl!”

\---------------------------------

When Lara walked into camp, Xavier would be waiting by the gate as though he could feel her approach. He would pull her to the cabin right away, hungry, greedy for her mouth and her pussy and her heat. Then they would talk, and she would tell him everything that was going on in the big world and in her life.

For times when she wouldn’t be around, admittedly being sort of Sugar Momma-ish, she had bought him a digital music player that she loaded with playlists arranged by decade, a solar powered USB battery charger and a speaker. He would never run out of music again. Xavier thought she must be rich to afford such things and she had laughed when he said that, succinctly responding, “UMM…. no.” They would dance together, and he showed her his favorite old aerobics routines while she whistled and clapped for him. After a few weeks, he had memorized the lyrics to some of her favorite songs and, she grudgingly admitted, could sing them much better than she could.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Introducing Waltz International’s newest protégé! _Singing_ lessons, _acting_ lessons, _dancing_ lessons!” she would exclaim when he was done, and grinned when she was rewarded with loud, goofy laughter. That laugh became one of her most favorite sounds, ever.

After Xavier told them she was good people and not one of the old gore hounds that had used to wander through, she was approached by a few of the residents. Some of them asked questions about what was going on outside Redwood, but for many, their minds seemed to run in loops, circular thought patterns fixated on things that had happened within the confines of the camp decades ago as if it were still 1948 or 1970.

One day, when she was alone for a moment, she was approached by a little boy dressed in what looked like pioneer clothing; he told her he was looking for his Ma and asked if Lara had seen her. He thought it was 1872. Frowning, Xavier said he had never seen that child when she told him about the encounter, no one had.

It became a sort of strange honor to be allowed to join his friends around the campfire when Xavier was in the rare mood to share her company. She had to brush off Trevor’s repeated requests for coke, which, she finally told him, wasn’t a thing anymore, but she did bring them weed. When she found out they couldn’t actually get high, she brought it anyway, since they still seemed to enjoy the act of smoking it. As for herself, she found being tongued down and banged out by Xavier while she was stoned _was_ a thing.

It was at that campfire that Lara was stunned to learn, finally, that it was Margaret Boothe and Mr. Jingles who had killed them, except for Montana, who admitted Brooke had killed her in self-defense. Upon hearing that news, Lara was overwhelmed, silently, with relief and dizzy with joy. She still hadn’t told Xavier Brooke was her mother or that she had come there to atone for Brooke killing them, and now there was no need.

They spent most of their time in his cabin but occasionally, someone would come knocking politely on the door. Usually, Xavier wouldn’t answer. When the knocking was urgent, he would leave and then come back bloody with his machete and his clothes bright with rich ruby stickiness. Once, and most frightening, there was a loud, frantic banging on the door, the knob rattling fiercely as though someone were trying to break in. Enraged screams of “Let me in! That bitch is mine! Let me in!” fouled the air outside as Xavier waited on the inside with his machete raised, vibrating with angry energy, his pupils dilated with fear for her. The frightening rattling and banging and shouting had ended with an abrupt scream of pain as the man on the other side of the door was cut down.

Lara didn’t need to ask him for an explanation. He had already told her about Ramirez, the man who had attacked her the first time she came to the camp. He required constant vigilance and containment; he was the threat to her life that would never cease to be a danger. Like Xavier, he seemed to have a sixth sense for when she would appear, inexorably attracted to the rare flesh and blood woman he could defile and destroy.

It was a cold winter day on yet another visit. The weekend with Xavier had been beautiful, as usual, but as he was walking her to the gate to leave, the uproar began, dashing their peace to hell. Clutching his machete tighter, Xavier made her hurry to get out but before they could reach the barrier, the dark-haired man appeared yet again, racing towards them full-speed with a wild grin on his strange, yet oddly attractive face. His smile was a rictus of death and he was laser-focused on her and her alone.

Before Ramirez could reach her, Xavier’s machete almost too slow by a hair, Ray came barreling out of the trees and tackled him, knocking him to the ground. As Lara stared, mesmerized, Ray sat on the man’s bucking body and started hacking at his throat with a short axe; Xavier joined in, stabbing Ramirez in the head until he stopped moving. There was blood on everything, everywhere, and Lara watched it dazedly as it soaked the ground. God help her if the sight of it didn’t stir something in her, something deep and dark and familiar; it made her swoon.

Ray looked up at Xavier, panting and now angry. “You see? I _told_ you. He’s worse when she’s here. You’re out of your fucking mind to let her keep coming back, man.” Ray stood up, wiping the spatters of Ramirez’ blood and gore from his forehead and his mouth with disgust.

“It’s none of your business, Ray,” Xavier retorted loudly, pointing the bloody tip of his machete at him. “Your little flower-power girlfriend is here with you all the time. You don’t know what it’s like.”

“You haven’t learned anything, you selfish prick,” Ray responded, shaking his head. “You’re gonna get her fucking killed. Is that what you want? If it is, here, take this and get it over with. You know you want to!” He offered Xavier his axe with his chest heaving.

Xavier’s eyes were narrow and his breath was short. When he turned to face her, Lara saw the truth in the shimmering turquoise depths and it stunned her, left her breathless. For the first time, she realized that he thought about it, about keeping her there with him, forever, and it would be so, so easy to make that happen with just a flick of his wrist. He was trembling and then he dropped his blade, walking over to envelope her in a comforting embrace. Ray stood watching them, watching her, and she couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Just go,” Xavier said softly. Behind him, Ramirez’ leg was already twitching, inky shadows dancing lightly over his body. Whispering. To her. “Go!”

She left.

\------------------------------

Another weekend in this paradise of purgatory with him. Breath, hot, tickling her ear. Shadows moving across the wall mimicking the movement of Xavier’s hands gliding across her skin. Wind sighing and moaning, the way she was moaning with his mouth rough on her nipples and his cock buried deep in her pussy, balls slapping delicately, keeping time against her ass as their bodies undulated on his bed. Then he made her get on top, wanting the view of her body in the lantern light, glowing, his hands travelling and relearning her flesh until she was weak and wet and wanton with pleasure. Time apart from her demanded it; he had to rediscover her every time, everything he needed and craved and missed terribly.

Lara was nearing her release and her eyes grew dreamy, mouth open as she slathered Xavier’s rock-hard pole in her juices. His hips bucked upwards and he gripped her ass and maneuvered her, conflicting with how she wanted to ride him, and they struggled until finally she won, her clit rubbing hungrily against him with a delicious friction that felt too fucking good to be real.

Dizzy, drowning in her, Xavier breathlessly urged her to come all over him and she did. She wailed when his cock massaged the spongy spot just inside her tunnel and then her walls were throbbing and squeezing him possessively. He flipped her over onto her back again and kept going, unable to get enough of her, and he was plunging in and out of this passageway to heaven as if this was an escape, as if she was his way out of this unending nothingness. To him, she was the opposite of nothing, she was everything.

“ _Lara_ ….” Her name was an unsteady whisper in his mouth when he came not long after, pouring an ocean in her as deep as it could possibly go and collapsed. Tightly, he held onto her. He was putting off the moment he always dreaded, that moment when his cock would slide out of her along with their combined essences and he would feel so keenly the loss of their most primal connection.

Xavier loved her. Totally, completely. And she was as much of a torture to him as she was bliss. The day he realized he was in love, when she was miles away back home and hadn’t been able to make it for the weekend, was the day he had discovered the scent of coconut clinging to his pillow and in his clothes and realized this had all gone too fucking far and it would never, ever work. He had to end this, again, for good somehow, before he completely lost control, desperately needing to pretend that hadn’t already happened.

Ray’s words came to haunt him (ha ha). He knew he would somehow, some way, end up responsible for hurting her, either physically or emotionally. He was Xavier, after all, and that’s what Xavier did; despite all his best intentions, someone always got hurt, either himself or someone else. He was irrevocably tainted.

Xavier pushed those heavy thoughts away and tried his best to enjoy his time with her the rest of the weekend, make it beautiful as she was beautiful. Then Sunday afternoon came. They had just made love again and Lara was dozing contentedly in his arms. There was never going to be a better time to do this; he knew he couldn’t keep waiting. He had to tell her it was time for this to be over. And this time, this time, he had to _mean_ it.

“Lara.”

He didn’t know how to begin. Sorrow suddenly flooded his chest, locking the words inside him, and he tried gathering the cold from all the places it dwelled in him. He battered it into an armor of ice so he wouldn’t feel it when the knife came down to cut their cord.

She looked at him, hearing the slight shift in the way he had said her name. Knowing what it meant, she closed her eyes for a long moment, then looked at him again. A slight, sad smile played on her lips, and he touched them fleetingly.

“You don’t want me anymore. Time is up for us,” Lara said softly. Xavier’s eyes went a smoky, shadowed blue.

“It’s never that I don’t want you. I’ll always want you,” Xavier said quietly. His breath caught somewhere deep in his throat and his face was working. “But you can’t come here anymore. Ray was right. Ramirez is worse when you’re here. You’ll get hurt and the only way I’m going to get through an eternity of this bullshit is knowing I’m not responsible for that. I can be pretty self-centered, but even I’m not that selfish. You can’t be here,” he said.

Eyes narrowing, her heart squeezed in her chest as though he had reached in and grasped it with his strong fingers, twisting it mercilessly all the while pretending he was doing her some kind of favor. She knew he was telling the truth about his fear for her safety, but she could see all his other reasons lit up like neon signs against the black wall in her mind.

“Is it really Ramirez hurting me you’re afraid of or is it _you_ getting hurt? It’s uncomfortable feeling anything, so you just pretend there’s nothing there to feel,” she said.

There it was again, her scalpel, cutting down to the quick of him. It was cruel of her to hit Xavier’s vulnerable spot and she knew it. She regretted it instantly. Wincing, a look crossed his face as though he’d been lightly slapped. When his eyes met hers again, they were tinged pink and his lips were red and swollen with emotion. How that could make her want him even more in such a moment was a mystery to her.

“Alright, Lara. You want the truth? The truth is this situation fucking sucks,” he said, voice vibrating low. “When you’re here, I’m happy, when you leave, everything is fucked up. When you can’t come…it’s like I’m being cut up all over again. I can’t do this anymore. It’ll be better for me if I know you just won’t be coming back.”

A tear trickled from the corner of one of his wondrous eyes and Lara touched it. She clasped it in her hand, tightly, crescent nails digging painfully into her own palm and she shook her head as Xavier got off the bed, pulling on his shorts and moving away from her, as if he couldn’t bear to be that near anymore.

“Stop being so dramatic, Xavier!” she exclaimed with a shaky laugh, but he was still crying, and it wasn’t funny, at all. “You’ve never even tried once to leave with me. Not even once! How do you know it won’t work if you won’t try?” Her voice was tinged with accusation when she said that, clutching the blanket to her chest as tears began rolling down her own cheeks.

“I told you, I’ve tried everything. Being good, being bad, none of it mattered. I’m here to stay. Give up, Lara,” Xavier said harshly. His voice tremored again with anger and sorrow as he jabbed a trembling finger at her. “I didn’t ask you to be my savior. I don’t need you to rescue me.”

“I keep coming back because I love you. I know you know that. Xavier, this is me loving you. Why won’t you just let me?” Lara pleaded.

Her hands rose in the air, then fell as she just looked at him beseechingly with her head tilted to the side. She hadn’t planned to say any of that, but it had spilled out of her unbidden, unstoppable. She was silently begging him to change his mind, but he looked resolute, beaten down. At her admission and the expression on her face, he shut his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them again, they were feral.

“No, what you’re doing isn’t love. You’re fucking haunting me. Constantly teasing me with everything I can’t do and everything I can’t have. Just stop, okay? Please stop _haunting_ me!”

Wounded, she was shocked speechless. Lara got up to pull on her clothes and threw her belongings in her pack as fast as her nerveless hands could manage. Xavier was numb and didn’t, couldn’t speak either as he also dressed and almost robotically walked her to the gate. Before she left, he pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her fragrant hair. Loose-limbed, mute, she let him hold her without responding, so unlike herself, her warm cheerfulness gone, just gone. The knowledge that he had done that to her, that he had been too weak with desire for her to put a stop to all this when there still had been time for her to walk away happy and unharmed, flooded him with guilt. He was used to dealing with that emotion but this…

“Good bye, Lara,” he said, and then he tore himself away and quickly walked off, not looking back.

Bereft, she stared after him and though the day had been a crisp, December blue, everything now looked grey. Unsure if she should go after him, wishing she could just go to him and throw her arms around him and they could take it all back, she lingered in the gateway but then slowly went to her car. She couldn’t bear it if she had to hear him tell her to leave again.

Xavier heard the engine of Lara’s car turn and start, and hot blood rushed to his face. His anguished eyes ran over the camp, the firepit, the ageless cabins, the never-ending sameness suddenly and overwhelmingly hateful to him, and he felt like screaming. When he saw the gang chasing down that fucking Ramirez going after Lara again, his soul-lust for her and the wildness building and choking his chest was replaced by throbbing, mindless rage.

He grabbed an axe on his way over and when he got there, he pushed his way through the crowd and swung on that motherfucker over and over and over again until he was down on the ground and in pieces. Face and body dripping black-cherry with Ramirez’ blood, again ( _again again again_ ), Xavier stood back, panting and then threw the axe full force into a tree. 

The others stared at him as he staggered away with the rage draining out of him, unable to speak, and went to his cabin. Some looked after him with sympathy, others with no feeling at all. They knew why he was like this, knew he had been living in a dream for the past few months and it was now over, as it should be. This was no place for the quick; it was only fit for the dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to Waltz International are taken from "The Godfather" (1972), directed by Francis Ford Coppola.


	6. Q&A

Lara was driving away from Redwood, not even bothering to wipe away her tears, just letting them soak the collar of her thick coat. If she tried to stop them, they would build up inside, they would drown her, she would be pulled down by the undertow and she wouldn’t survive this. Finally, her hands were shaking so badly, she was forced to stop.

She pulled into the old abandoned gas station, not knowing it was one of the last places in the real world that Xavier had stopped decades ago before reaching his fateful, final destination. Quiet, still, there wasn’t even a bird in the trees to sing her a forlorn song of woe. Then Lara sobbed with her hands gripping the wheel, feeling as though she could crush it with her fury, and she let the grief flow, a river of loss, a sorrowing sea.

Blinded and deafened, she didn’t hear it when a car pulled up beside hers. Then someone said her name. Looking up, she saw her aunt, glaring at her full of anger and concern. Lara rolled down her window.

“It always comes to this, doesn’t it?” Donna said with quiet fierceness. “You’ve been up at Redwood.”

Lara exclaimed, “Dee, what are you doing here? Were you following me?”

“Let’s not talk here. I still feel like this is too close,” Donna replied. “You get to follow me now.”

The shock of seeing Donna and the cold air blowing through her open window gave Lara the boost she needed to pull herself together enough to concentrate on driving again. They made it most of the way back to L.A., but Donna pulled over at a lonely beach side rest stop and Lara pulled in beside her. Silently, they stopped at the shack selling drinks and snacks. Donna bought her a coffee and a hot scone, even though she didn’t feel much like eating. Waves churned frothy green capped with white crests and they sat on a bench watching them for a time.

Donna pursed her lips, taking a sip of her coffee. “I should have told you about this years ago.”

“About Redwood? How would you know about that place?” Lara asked.

She felt still, so strangely calm. Donna was going to tell her something important and she didn’t know if she wanted to hear it, didn’t know just how much more she could take in one day, after Xavier. After Xavier. Everything that happened from this point on was going to be “After Xavier”, her life now irrevocably altered after barely a few months of knowing him.

Donna took a deep breath and then released it. “So, you must know by now your birth mother was Brooke Thompson. That’s how you found out about Redwood.”

“Yes. I got my adoption records unsealed, finally. I didn’t tell my parents or you, or anybody. I didn’t know how anyone would take that information. _I_ didn’t know how to take it.”

Lara remembered her first time seeing the image of Brooke Thompson’s face in her lawyer’s adoption file, pale and wide-eyed in her booking photo, calm and defiant in the grainy VHS trial video. With the memory of first seeing those images and reading about Brooke’s supposed crimes, Lara spoke softly, feeling the words floating out of her mouth.

“When I found out she was my birth mother, where I was born and what she had done, I had this awful feeling inside like… is that who I am? Is that what’s in me? I felt like I had to help her victims escape what she had done to them. That’s why I started going to Redwood. Then I met…” Her voice shook and she had to stop. When she could speak again, “Since then, they told me it wasn’t her who had done the killing.” A wave of nausea swept over her and she doubled over for a moment, putting her head on her knees until the dizziness passed. 

“Before I tell you the rest of the story, forgive me.”

Quitting cigarettes, finally, had been on Donna’s agenda that year, and she had been doing well but relapsed easily during moments of stress. Apparently this qualified as such a moment. Her coffee finished, Donna lit up a smoke and began filling in the gaps, reflectively, calmly.

She and Brooke had met at Redwood. And yes, she had been the one who released Jingles as part of her experiment. She was there that night as part of her research on serial killers because her own father had been one. Margaret and the Nightstalker were there, too, crime and evil incarnate. Surviving the night of the massacre turned out to just be the beginning of Brooke’s hell; she was arrested the next morning when Margaret pinned all the blame on her. Lara was born nine months later in Brooke’s first year of incarceration, who then lost all her appeals and after five years of prison was put on Death Row.

When Donna had found out Brooke had had a baby, she used her connections to get Lara placed in a foster home with people she knew, people who would love her and take good care of her, a wonderful couple with a five-year-old son. Her family. Auntie Dee stayed close by so she could watch over her, hoping that the trauma of Redwood wouldn’t follow Lara as she grew. She had prayed that like herself, Lara could overcome the horror in her history, tragedies she wasn’t responsible for. Even though she already knew about it, Brooke told her about Lara's birth a few years later when she could finally talk about it. Brooke would have kept her if it were at all possible, but it wasn’t to be.

Lara stilled again. “Years later? Brooke told you before she was executed?” Lara asked quietly. At Donna’s expression, she closed her eyes against another wave of nausea.

Donna sighed heavily. “Brooke is alive. I faked her execution and I helped her escape, to atone for what I had done to _her_. She’s living in Oregon with a new name, a husband and two kids, almost grown. I’ve sent her pictures of you and she wants to know everything about you but she’s afraid you wouldn’t forgive her for never trying to contact you. I had a hunch you were up to something when you wouldn’t say much about your new boyfriend, and I followed you up this past Friday. The man you've been going up there to see...he’s cursed, baby. And since you were just crying, I’m guessing he told you not to go back just like they told me not to go back years ago. Am I right?”

Lara nodded miserably. “Yeah. That’s what happened. He says I’ll get hurt if I keep coming back. The guy they call the Nightstalker is still up there and it seems he’s kinda hot for me.” It was a terrible joke.

Donna didn’t laugh. “Take his advice. You shouldn’t ever go back. I’m sorry to have to tell you this. He’s your birth father.”

Lara sat stunned, stunned and terribly confused as her stomach dropped through the floor. “Xavier is my father? But how? He’s… I’m not…” She touched her own cheek softly.

Donna blinked. “Xavier? He’s the one you’ve been going to see?”

“Yes. Who are you….? Oh my God. Oh my God!” Lara exclaimed. She jumped up out of her seat, the coffee spilling on the ground unheeded. “Ray? Ray is my father?”

“Yes, Ray!” Donna exclaimed fervently, then fanned herself. “And thank God it’s Xavier you’ve been seeing, because I thought you were sleeping with _him_! I know they’re all ghosts but that shit would just be too weird.”

“No fucking kidding!” Lara spluttered with a crazed laugh. She dropped back onto the bench, still stunned, and pressed her cold hands to her hot cheeks. “Ray! Well, I’m glad it was him. I was assuming my mother was attacked by a guard when she got to prison.”

"No, it was Ray. And there’s something else. She told me Ray… Ray was already dead when you were conceived.”

“I’m going to throw up,” Lara announced matter-of-factly and then proceeded to do just that.

\-----------------------------------------

Lara had always known she was adopted. Even if her parents hadn’t decided to be honest, it would have been obvious as she grew up because although she had some of their features, such as the shape of her nose and the fullness of her lips, with a noticeably lighter complexion and wavy hair she looked nothing like either of them or anyone else in their immediate family. Strangers would stare at them, and there were always questions.

When she turned eighteen, she had tried looking up her records, but they had been sealed. At least for a little while, it had freed her from wondering and she had embraced her family and the love they lavished on her. Still, the nagging questions poked her and worried at her until she had decided to dig deeper and found a lawyer who could get her file cracked open.

What she had learned then had been horrible enough. She had believed she was the child of a mass murderer. She had believed she had the blood of a fiend in her, lurking somewhere in a hidden place, waiting to come roaring out and destroy everything good and wholesome around her. Now, she knew her birth mother hadn’t been the monster after all, but what was _she_? 

Donna told her she’d spoken to the prison hospital nurse who was present when Lara was born. Her arrival was heralded by stone cold silence when she had slid out in a river of blood and fluid without a pulse, her little lips purple. They tried everything under the sun to push breath into her lungs and failed. She had been wrapped in a towel and was about to be wheeled away when an anguished Brooke pleaded to hold her. After twenty minutes or so, she had roused with the feel of Brooke’s tears on her face, drew air into her lungs and then cried lustily. Her skin had flooded with rosy health, she had a pulse and a heartbeat, and she opened her eyes and became a real girl. The clocks in the room had stopped at the moment of her quickening. Most of the staff present that day had quit by the end of the week.

After hearing that endearing little “On the Day You Were Born” story, Lara didn’t know what her own existence meant. She looked human and felt fully real in her own flesh. Xavier had often mentioned just how different she was from everyone at Redwood, how her spark of life set her apart from them.

And yet…. she had never been out sick from school. She was never out sick from work. Her ex had complained there was never a thermometer or even a basic box of band aids in the house when he needed one. No broken bones, no serious wounds, and the ones she did manage to acquire healed within a day. Her willful blindness to these facts over the years, that it was all just good nutrition and good luck, was burned down to ashes when she learned the truth about Brooke and Ray.

Now, when she caught sight of herself in a mirror, she would stop and stare, found herself fighting the urge to draw a knife across the deep tan of her skin, just to see what would happen. She didn’t. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.

Lara did know she wanted very much to see Ray again and learn more about the man who had given her this pull in her soul to seek out a home in the supernatural. She wanted him to leave Redwood and have a real life again, one he’d barely had before his life was cut short so viciously. His kind eyes following her around camp now had new meaning for her. Maybe he didn’t know she was his child, but something in her had called to him, somehow.

And Xavier. God. Confusion over her newfound knowledge about herself was secondary, tertiary, compared to how much space Xavier took up in her mind and her soul and her body. She tried to fill her time with the mundane and the usual to try to forget him. Nothing worked. Her mind wandered back to him every chance it could, wretched, traitorous thing that it was.

She wanted to talk to him and hear his offbeat comments and ancient slang. She longed to watch him discover the good things about their world instead of just replaying the horrors, feel his palpable excitement to share the things they both loved and hear that laugh. She missed the way he would follow her movements with that insatiable curiosity. And if that wasn’t enough, her pussy ached for the touch of his tongue, longed to be plundered and filled by his cock until she was drenched in him.

Xavier had invaded her dreams and every facet of her life. She had really been offended when he accused her of haunting him because dammit, she was being haunted by him too, even out here. Still, she knew this unbearable situation she found herself in was her fault. She was the one to blame for kissing him that first night, for going back again and again when he asked her not to, all her fault that she craved him like a drug. Arrogantly, she was that foolish person who had proclaimed she would never get hooked if she tried him just once but then wow, she’d gotten that hit of him to her bloodstream and the single tear had fallen, and she was done, she was in and there was no way out but through the bottom.


	7. Flesh for Fantasy

Realization dawned on her after a time that haunted dreams and a heavy heart and a body swollen with longing weren’t the only things Xavier had gifted ( _or cursed?_ ) her with. Her breasts were swelling too. When putting on a bra over their aching fullness became an act of will, and odors became overbearing, she was afraid, deathly afraid of the truth that was staring her in the face.

If it wasn’t for hearing of her own conception, her rational mind would have claimed this was impossible. Touching the flesh of someone who wasn’t supposed to be alive had also been impossible, yet it had happened. It had happened and it had changed everything.

Bereft, deeply troubled, she prepared to face Christmas without Xavier. Christmas, with all its enforced cheer, its melancholy music and garish, twinkling lights made her want to vomit even more than the pregnancy. She hadn’t told anyone yet that she was expecting. There would be no way to explain the truth and she couldn’t make up some fantasy boyfriend without feeling as though she were betraying Xavier with a lie. Donna would know the truth anyway, and therefore she was the one Lara told first, making her swear to keep her secret.

To say Donna was less than thrilled at the news would have been the grandest of all understatements. When Lara told her, sitting over dinner at her favorite restaurant where Lara just picked at her food, Donna had thrown her napkin down in disgust, shaking her head. She cursed, keeping her voice low so the other patrons in their plush booths wouldn’t hear.

“Shit. Pregnant? Girl! It didn’t occur to you to use protection, after all those talks we had when you were in high school and college?” Donna said and Lara snorted a sarcastic laugh.

“I didn’t know his stuff would still work. Who knew you needed to use protection with a ghost? Oh wait, I know who knew. _You_ knew! Maybe if you had told me about my birth father being a goddamned spirit, I would have taken some condoms and lubed them with holy water,” Lara retorted.

Donna laughed until she coughed. She fidgeted with her fork and Lara knew she was itching for a cigarette.

“I hope you’re not thinking about going back up there to tell him. Xavier never struck me as the fatherly type. He seemed more like the guy who would rather scrounge up a few dollars to solve that kind of problem than show up for diaper changes.”

Lara sobered at her words. Yes, it had occurred to her that Xavier might not be interested in fatherhood, alive or dead. Ignoring the bad places that train of thought could take her, she twisted her lips at Donna.

“Why is this automatically a problem? I mean, look at me!” she said drily. “I’m normal, mostly. If you’re saying this baby is a mistake, then I’m a mistake.”

“That’s not what I said,” Donna quickly replied with a shake of her well-coiffed head. “ _Shit_ , I really need a cigarette right now. I’d ask you to come outside with me but now I can’t even smoke in front of you. Damned baby is cramping my style already.” Giving Lara the side-eye, there was a faint softening on Donna’s face.

An answering smile tugged at Lara’s mouth. “Good, at least that’s something positive.” Her smile faded. “Dee, in all the years since Redwood, have you ever found a reason why they can’t leave?”

Donna pondered that, taking a long sip of water first. The clatter of dishes and silver ware faded into the background as they sat in the jewel-toned closeness of their velvet crimson booth.

“I’ve talked to about a million psychics and seers, mediums, you name it. I even went to talk to a priest. Most of them came to the same conclusion. Unfinished business. Guilt. Anger, love. They get tied down to our plane when they can’t or won’t move on. Unfortunately, there is no magic potion, no spells or mystical tricks I ever heard of to make them leave. Some folks suggested that letting go of anger or guilt would be enough for them to go but it’s not that simple.” Donna paused and then said, “You should know about Bobby.”

“Who’s Bobby?”

“He’s a young man that came around not too long ago. His father was Mr. Jingles. He left the camp, got himself a whole family with a wife and a baby, and then he went back. When he died that second time, that was it. His son Bobby grew up and came down from Alaska to find out what happened to him.”

“And did he?” Lara asked. Clutching her napkin in her hand, she held her breath to hear the conclusion.

“He told me he found them. Jingles, his grandmother, a whole little family. But they didn’t leave. They didn’t want to. Bobby’s love wasn’t enough to pull his father out of there, and he almost got himself killed by Ramirez in the process. He went back to Alaska to live his life. Last I heard from him, he was doing well. He got what he needed, and he’s moved on. Lara, you can’t keep thinking there’s a way to get Xavier out of Redwood. This isn’t a fairytale. He’s not a prince trapped in an enchanted forest that you can just wake up with a kiss. The only happily ever after you’re going to get out of this is just being out here alive in the real world. It’s time to move on, baby girl. Let it go.”

Donna reached over to take her hand and Lara let her, even as miserable tears were trickling down her face.

“And this baby? I can ignore Xavier and Ray and everybody else up there, but I can’t pretend it’s not real,” Lara said quietly when she could force words past the lump choking her throat.

“No, you can’t ignore that. I don’t know how to explain you or that baby, but I’ll support you no matter what. You turned out to be a good one,” Donna smiled with fondness. “Anyway, if I’m gonna be an auntie again we might as well celebrate. Bring on the champagne!”

Lara’s lips trembled into a smile and she let Donna order some bubbly. It was a bittersweet celebration.

\--------------------------------------

Dreaming. She must have been dreaming. There was no other reason to explain why Xavier’s bed was in her apartment, the soft, beloved faded patchwork quilt underneath pilling and fuzzy under her bare legs. It had to be a dream because then she and the bed were in Xavier’s cabin, and the air was so, so cold.

A large, warm hand was gliding across her stomach, caressing her there gently. It was Xavier. Lara turned to him and his lips on hers were hot, open, his tongue delicately dipping then plunging into the well of her mouth. He lay down on top of her carefully as his smooth, heavy thighs slid between hers. She could feel he was already hard as marble.

“What am I doing here? How did I…?” Lara started to ask but he silenced her with his mouth and his eyes were mischievous and strange in the lamplight.

“It doesn’t matter where you are, Lara. I’ll always find you. You’ll always come back to me,” Xavier whispered.

He pulled up her nightgown and jerked her panties off roughly, not playing and teasing as he usually would. Tonight, he was all force and greed, blind, insatiable appetite, and she tried not to cry out when he grasped her hair sharply and pulled, or when he bit deeply into her neck with a crunching noise and thrust his iron-hard cock into her unready cunt and began driving in and out. She was barely wet and the friction hurt at first but then it hurt so good as he kept up his brutal pace, and soon her stretched and filled cunt was soaked. Listening to the liquid, smacking sounds of his thrusts, of their sexes slapping together crazily, set a dark lust bubbling in the pit of her stomach.

“It’s so good, _so good_!” Her voice wasn’t her own, just a high-pitched cry as the lust boiled over and she came apart.

Breath shallow with panting pleasure, Lara’s legs wrapped around Xavier’s waist. His beautiful face above her was convulsed with passion, his dick was slippery hot, and she loved every bit of his instrument of torment as it sawed in and out of her. Moaning loudly, she became his ragdoll, his thing to be used when he pulled her legs above his shoulders and pumped mindlessly, forcing her to take each ridge and line of his bruising cock, and when the smooth head banged her cervix she crashed.

Flung out into a great darkness, she shattered absolutely. Wordless, she screamed for him, clutching at his neck to keep her soul from spinning away out of her body into a black void of infinite ecstasy and never returning. But Xavier wasn’t done with her. He grasped her and pulled her back from the abyss, and then he rode her, rode her, _rode her_ , until he growled a harsh animal noise in his throat. He quivered as his rod erupted volcanic cum that scorched her insides, so fiery it made her cry and she wanted nothing more than to soak up every drop.

With a sheen of sweat on his face, he looked down into her eyes and smiled, slowly. Lara wanted to smile back through her tears, but then waves of tiredness at the stunning violence of their lovemaking swam over her and his face swirled before her eyes.

“Mine,” he chuckled softly, and his voice was a thick, bass vibration deep in her head. “ _Mine…”_

Before she fell into the black of sudden sleep, his dark, satisfied smirk and glittering eyes were the last thing she saw.

When she awoke, she was in her own bed at home. Of course Xavier wasn’t there. It had been the most intense dream of him she’d ever had, her most intense dream period. Her body still trembled just thinking about it and she felt sore everywhere, like she really had been a doll, a toy, broken and glued together again clumsily.

Even at his most passionate, Xavier had never been that way with her before. Lara mused about how amazing and real it had felt while she began her morning ablutions in the bathroom, wondering how a dream could make her pussy feel throbbing and fucked loose even while awake, right up until a real drizzle of sticky wetness ran swiftly down her thigh. Suddenly panicked for the baby, whom she had forgotten existed in the dream, she swiped up the viscous fluid with her fingers and saw it was milky white. Dazedly she looked in the mirror and saw them there, the deep, dark rose-red indentations in her throat.

Legs failed her and she sat down on the commode, hard, and stayed there for a long time. Then, slowly, she got up, she showered and got dressed, and went about her day. It hadn’t happened. It was just a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is taken from the song "Flesh for Fantasy" by Billy Idol. Because Billy Idol is the Truth.


	8. The End of the Beginning

Spring flowered. Despite her fears of what would happen, what he might say when he saw her again, she was going back to Redwood to see Xavier, one more time. She knew she was ignoring his wishes once again, knew she was putting herself in danger of being rejected by him again, but there was no choice for her. She had to see him. The only thing she could cling to, was her wild hope that the time apart had made him miss her with the same insane intensity with which she had missed him, if that were even possible. He at least deserved a chance to know about the baby and let him make his choice to either accept or reject him too.

Ray hadn’t been given the chance to know her. Maybe, if he had known of her existence, it would have spurred him to leave Redwood a long time ago. Not knowing what either of them would say at her appearance or her news, she prepared herself to hear “no” while hoping desperately that she would get the answer she craved.

Once she had made the decision, she could hardly wait to get to him. She packed a weekend bag, plenty of food and snacks and water, and drove carefully up the muddy roads to Redwood. Arriving just as the sun was at its zenith in the sky, she braced herself and breathed deeply. The air was warming and sweet, aromatic with heather and green things bursting and ripening. She felt the baby kick, almost as though he knew they were on their way to the place of his conception, to the place where she herself had been conceived, two generations of Redwood’s love.

Lara walked slowly into the grounds, seeing everything unchanged and waiting. She heard a shout and commotion and immediately knew what it was. Before she could hide, a figure dashed towards her running at top speed. Ramirez, again. But this time, once and for all, she gave up on fear.

Maybe her purgatory was constantly being charged at by this monster in a never-ending loop. Maybe today was the day he would finally get to her and take her down, cut open this mortal sheath she wore so she could step out of it, gracefully, without regrets, and allow her spirit to join Xavier forever in Redwood. She was ready for it. She wouldn’t try to hide or run anymore.

The curved blade in his hand caught the gleam of daylight and shone in her eyes, momentarily blinding her. Full throttle, he was coming for her, relentless and single-minded, when he suddenly skidded to a halt, staring at her and her tight, rounded belly just visible under her open jacket. His sharp grin dropped from his face and was replaced by what seemed like disappointment.

“I’m too late. Looks like someone’s already given you a gift,” Ramirez said. Gently, his hand rather than his knife skimmed up against her throat and his fingers closed over the fluttering pulse there as he held her still and examined her face. The breath on her cheek was hot, excited. “Yes. A gift. Praise Satan.”

He touched her stomach with a reverent hand, his black eyes blazing into hers. Something about the way he looked at her, the way he spoke, sent an electric tingle from her scalp to her toes, and everything went dizzyingly off-kilter. Before she could reply, he bowed and laughed, “Until we meet again, Mama,” and was off and running with a grin of ultimate victory, past the gates, and down the road. The others caught up just to see him disappear around the curve but none could pass the gate to get to him.

“Fuck!” Chet screamed.

Immediately, there was a cacophony of accusing voices and curses as they attacked each other, passing out blame for letting him get away, off into the world to cause more mayhem after all this time. Muttering angrily, they tossed out ideas to see if there was a way to get Ramirez back.

“There’s a man, in Alaska. His name is Bobby Richter,” Montana told her urgently. “Find him. Let him know what just happened.”

Lara promised her, “I will.” Then, still cursing, Montana went, and the others left with her, all except for Xavier and Ray.

Xavier stood with warring emotions chasing each other across his features as her appearance registered in his mind, as if he were seeing a phantasm. Relief, anger, joy, and searing, terrible need, all struggled visibly for dominance in his trembling body. Lara just looked at him with her heart cut open and spilling love on the ground and wished it was enough to wash away all the blood and the misery of ages. Ray was there beside him, and he just looked sad.

“Why didn’t he kill you?” Xavier asked slowly. Then as he drew closer, his eyes moved to her belly and then slowly slid back up to her face. Shock. Another fabulous understatement. “Is that…. is that even possible?” he asked haltingly, gesturing towards her with his hand.

Lara laughed breathlessly, her heart thudding so loudly she wondered if he could hear it. “Yes, it’s possible. I’m possible, too,” Lara said, looking at Ray.

Ray’s eyes were on her. “You're Brooke’s daughter. My daughter.”

“You guessed?” she asked.

Ray nodded slowly while Xavier looked between them as the full import of their words hit him and he laughed, crazily, hands on hips.

“Not at first but yeah. You have Brooke’s eyes and her smile. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you coming back here, for him or for me,” Ray said with a sad shake of his head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you growing up.”

“That’s the problem. You’re both sorry, about everything, even things you had no control over, but you won’t accept any forgiveness. If you can’t forgive yourselves, you’ll never get out of here,” she said.

Ray made a noise of frustration. “If it was that simple, we would have left a long time ago.”

“Well, now it’s a question of what you want more. Do you both just want to keep tormenting yourselves and believing you don’t deserve to be happy or do you want me? Do you want us?” Lara asked, touching her side with pleading eyes.

“And then what? I get to be a grandpa when I still look like I’m in my twenties? Is Xavier gonna be my knuckleheaded son-in-law?” Ray argued.

“Dude, that would be so fucking weird. I can't believe I've been fucking Brooke and Ray's daughter. And she’s having _my kid_ because apparently, ghosts can knock people up. This… this is pretty special news,” Xavier said with a quirked eyebrow and a slow laugh. Lara’s sudden reappearance after an unbearable eternity of missing her, everything he had just learned about her background, and a baby on top of it all, was so overwhelming, it was all he could manage to not lose it right then and there.

Ray rolled his eyes at him. “That _is_ my kid you're talking about, be respectful,” Ray paused to tell him, and Xavier raised his hands in a no-foul, apologetic gesture, still laughing at the insanity. Ray’s attention went back to Lara. “What about that guy I got killed? The second I walk outta here, the cops finally find me, and I trade this for fucking jail!” he exclaimed, spreading his arms out. “Considering my options, I think I’d rather just stay here.”

“No one is looking for you anymore,” Lara tried. But Ray shook his head, resisting the idea, resisting her and life.

“Stop being so hard-headed! The best thing you could do for me is go out there and forget me.” Ray turned and walked away with Lara sadly watching him go before her eyes went narrow with determination.

“You’re wrong,” she called after him. “You’re wrong! And I’m not giving up on you.” Then she turned to Xavier. “And you. I know you want to be out there, being part of things again. And I know you love me. I can see it in you, I can feel it and I know it’s real.”

Fiercely, lovingly, she showed him his own truth, glowing bright as the sun and he shuddered, the laughter falling away as suddenly as it had come. This was it, this was the moment. Xavier couldn’t hide from her any more than he could hide from himself. Broken down, cracked wide open, he was helpless before her, betrayed by his own unrelenting, unshakeable desire.

“I do love you, Lara. I do. But I’ll ruin you,” he said softly.

Lara’s heart swelled wild and full to finally hear him say the words and she was torn between jubilation and extreme exasperation with him. He was her beautiful, stubborn Xavier, the only person with more determination to be right than herself, even when he was so obviously wrong. And he loved her. He loved her.

“You can’t ruin me. The only way you can hurt me is to say you won’t even try. Try for us, please.”

Xavier hung back, his head and heart overcome and full to bursting. If this were anyone else, he would have run by now. Turmoil enveloped him and foolishly, he really did try to walk away for the final time but then his footsteps slowed, thudding on the ground until he came to a stop. This was senseless. It was utterly impossible to separate from her ever again, no matter what it took for them to be together, no matter what he had to risk. She was right. This was real.

Slowly, he turned back to reach for her, but Lara was now on the other side of the gate. Her hand was stretched out to him and he gazed at it and at her, shaking his head.

“I can’t. Be with me, in here. We’ll be safe now,” he said huskily.

“Xavier, our life is out here. It’s just waiting for you. You’ll make it.” Her eyes and her voice were so warm and sweet, he almost couldn’t bear it.

“I don’t deserve to!” he insisted softly. But already he could feel that lie, that age-old habitual lie that he’d carried his entire life, slowly lifting off his shoulders like a shroud burned away by a cleansing, healing flame.

“You do,” she said.

Then slowly, slowly, Xavier exhaled and let the guilt and the fear fall away. He was longing, he was an ache come to life, he had needed her and called out to her in his long shadowy darkness and now she was here, with a gift, his ultimate gift. Maybe he didn’t deserve her. Maybe “deserved” had nothing to do with it. This was need. This was love.

He reached out his hand and she touched it, on his side of the barrier. Then she wrapped her fingers around his, feeling the pads of his thumb and his fingers press into her palm with surety and she pulled. And pulled. And then, Xavier was on the other side. He was on the other side of the gate and he breathed in warm, shockingly fresh air and laughed real breath from his body as he wrapped her in his arms. Xavier buried his face in her hair and Lara held on, and for a long time there was peace.


	9. Epilogue/Prologue

They named him Michael after Xavier’s father. He was almost four years old the first time he successfully lifted a heavy toy truck off the top shelf of the bookcase where it had been placed out of his reach and made it glide gently down into his arms. Mommy had told him he had to finish lunch first before he could play with it and of course, he had left the table the second her back was turned, scrunched his beautiful little face and pointed at it. His smile was wide and proud as it floated to him.

Lara fixed him with a stern look while she took the toy away and bent down to his level. “Michael Boo Boo. We told you not to move things with your mind like that. Somebody could get hurt. And Mommy already said no truck until after you eat.”

“I don’t like that sandwich. You say no to everything!” he cried quite theatrically but she noisily smooched his rounded cheek several times and swatted his tiny behind playfully. Michael squirmed under her kisses, but he loved every second of her attention.

“Stop being so dramatic. I really don’t. It’s not my fault Daddy lets you get away with murder and then Mommy has to be the bad guy.” Lara glanced pointedly at Xavier, who cut his eyes at her with a slight frown.

“Please don’t mention murder in front of the baby,” Xavier said.

It was a Saturday. Xavier was sitting on the couch playing the Xbox. He had enough time to eat lunch with them and relax a little before he had to head out to shoot a small part for a film. On most days he was a production assistant and it was hard work and long hours, but it paid while the roles were slowly coming, each part a bit bigger than the last. In between her articles, Lara was working on her secret script that she refused to show him, but she said he was the star of her story, Waltz International’s greatest protégé.

Xavier Lange, with his thick hair, turquoise eyes and handsome face, was getting attention. Lara had begged him not to get rid of the blonde frosted pompadour she had grown to love but he compromised by cutting the top a bit, shaving down the back and spiking the blonde tips with some gel into a more modern look. The crucifix earring was replaced by a tiny golden stud, which earned him her quip, “ _You’re_ my golden stud”, followed by his dry response, “Your jokes are killer, babe, but don’t quit your day job.”

Of course, he didn’t want _too_ much attention. Xavier told people he was from San Francisco, which was true. The city was big enough that being an anonymous face in the crowd that no one and everyone remembered was somewhat easy to pull off. He owned that he had been addicted and homeless, which actually helped explain why he had no job history. It was remarkable and sad to him that a story like his was still common all these years later, but at least now it was met with a bit more compassion. 

It would be tougher to explain why he looked and felt perfectly normal but physically harming him permanently was still not possible. Experimenting slowly and carefully, Lara had discovered the same about herself. When Michael wasn’t there to see it and get ideas in his head, she began testing out what else she might be capable of and the results were… interesting.

At night, after Michael was finally asleep and she switched off the laptop to come to bed, they would sometimes talk about the strange nature of their existence and their child’s abilities which were slowly but steadily growing. No good answers for any of it were forthcoming. Xavier told her he suspected her ability to cross the Redwood barrier freely and release him might have more to do with her special heritage than just their desire to be together. Lara still insisted belief was everything; she had believed in him, and in them, from the beginning.

Xavier was afraid to set foot back on Redwood’s grounds for fear he might not be released again, but Lara and Michael had gone there and back again to see Ray without a problem. The three of them went together to see Brooke occasionally; her home was safer territory for Xavier, but the relationships were going to take more time.

As Lara continued arguing and tussling with Michael, Xavier watched them and grinned. He had been hoping Michael would take a nap that afternoon, so he could get in at least a half hour of time alone with Lara for something sugary sweet and hot in the way only she could serve it, but the kid's stubbornness had dashed that hope. Tonight, after he was asleep, for sure.

Impossibly, madly, deeply, Xavier found himself more in love with Lara every day. And Michael? Wow. He was a heartbreaker. It never stopped being amazing and hilarious to Xavier that he had his very own tiny double, one with his natural golden-brown hair falling in big, tousled curls and his features, right down to the slanted blue green eyes, only with a slightly warmer complexion. “Xavier with a tan” Lara often remarked with a laugh.

In all honesty, Xavier never had pictured himself as a father. In his old life, it had always been sort of a “maybe someday?” scenario followed by a shrug, nothing he’d planned for or actively wanted to make happen. Michael's arrival had been a life-changing shock, as if just being out in the world with Lara wasn’t already life-changing enough. Added to that, the kid was a handful. By now, they were coming to understand and accept that raising him was going to be a challenge, to put it mildly. If they couldn’t get him to stop levitating things and using his mind to influence others, for now just small creatures but who knew what next, homeschooling was in his future.

Despite all that, Michael was such a smart, funny, deeply loving little boy, seeking and giving affection with a fierceness that sometimes overwhelmed them. Being there to see him grow and discover the world made every challenge worth it and now Xavier couldn’t imagine his life without him. That was his best buddy right there. He would protect Michael, and Lara, at all costs.

After some struggle, Lara got Michael back in his chair at the kitchen table and came to the living room to find another hiding spot for the truck. Xavier caught her hand as she passed to pull her down for a kiss and his mouth moved softly against hers. Heaven. They separated with a groan when they heard a loud, shattering crash. Hell.

Michael was levitating the cookie jar off the top of the fridge. The red porcelain lid was cracked in pieces on the floor. Lara gave Xavier her “Please handle this” look and he sighed with exasperation, tossing the controller down.

“That’s it, kid. Time out corner,” Xavier said as he went to the kitchen. As usual, he struggled not to laugh at the expression of pure determination and defiance on Michael’s face. He might have been Xavier’s physical copy but inside, Michael was Lara times a million. Usually Xavier could persuade Michael to comply, but he was standing with legs planted and little arms crossed ready for battle. “I said time out!”

“No!”

Michael stomped his foot, and screwed his little face into a thundercloud. The room darkened slightly as a faint rumbling sound trembled in the air just below the ceiling. He pointed a finger at his parents, who patiently regarded their son with crossed arms and amused eyes. Michael discovered, to his disappointment, that what worked on toy trucks and cookie jars and ants and mice didn’t work on Daddy or Mommy. Full bottom lip plumped, sulking, Michael let the clouds dissipate. Time out corner, it was.


End file.
